Angel of Death
by Riddle.Me.Harry
Summary: Legend got the story of the Deathly Hallows wrong. Death had introduced them into the mortal world but not as a reward for cheating him. They didn't make one a Master of Death, either. They had really been introduced for recruitment purposes, a fact that Harry came to discover after losing Sirius and resolving to seek revenge on those who have wronged him. SLASH. HP/OMC
1. An Unconscious Decision

**Author's Note:**

No idea where this story came from but it would not leave my mind until I wrote down the first chapter.

Pairing: Harry Potter/OMC.

Which means this is SLASH. So if you don't like that then don't read. Please don't ignore that warning and then go on to give me flames because I will not be kind in my response.

Legend got the story of the Deathly Hallows wrong. Death had introduced them into the mortal world but not as a reward for cheating him. They didn't make one a Master of Death, either. They really had been introduced for recruitment purposes, a fact that Harry comes to discover after losing Sirius and resolving to seek revenge on those who have wronged him. SLASH. HP/OMC

 **Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.**

* * *

Harry didn't say a word on the train back to King's Cross Station. He simply kept his head against the glass, mindlessly looking at the terrain as they got closer and closer to London.

Something had broken inside of him after losing Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. That man had been more than just a Godfather, he had been a second chance for Harry to experience what it was like to belong to a family of his own.

Deep down Harry felt like Sirius was the only one that had ever really understood him, and Harry would miss knowing that someone cared for him without question or thought.

Hell, the man had broken out of the unbreakable prison, endured near starvation, and had almost been kissed by a hundred Dementors to protect him from the man who had betrayed his parents to Voldemort.

And now Sirius was gone because Harry had fallen into the Dark Lord's trap to lure him into the Department of Mysteries to retrieve a prophecy that Dumbledore had known existed since before he had even been born!

So Harry didn't feel much like talking to anyone, not even Ron and Hermione.

He was too angry and hurt and just done. The past five years had been one thing after another and he wanted no more of it.

When the train arrived Harry barely said goodbye to his friends and quickly retrieved his belongings and made for the barrier to the Muggle world. He needed to think, to be by himself, and to come to terms with recent events. All of them.

Thankfully, the Dursleys ignored him for once on the drive home. It was just as well; Harry had nothing to say to them anyways. They may have shared blood but they were not family.

Not after they had denied him the basic comforts of a home that all children deserved. His time at Privet Drive was just another blatant example of how Albus Dumbledore had failed him. A man who had proved time and time again that he had no right to continue making decisions where Harry Potter's health and safety were concerned! Or anyone's for that matter.

Harry was the first one out of the car when it pulled into the driveway, and he was in his room before any of the Dursleys had even entered the house. His trunk was left just inside the closed door and he practically fell onto the bed, exhausted. The only thing that he remained holding onto was his father's Invisibility Cloak and his wand.

They comforted him and after what had happened he was not going to be caught without his two greatest weapons. Tears then began to fall uncontrollably into his pillow as his soul grieved. Harry cried for Sirius, for his parents, and for all the horribleness that had come from being the Boy Who Lived. Soon wariness took him and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Harry awoke before dawn. He had managed to get around six hours of troubled sleep before that sinking, depressed feeling had returned to his stomach. Once he had gotten the bare minimum amount of rest that his fatigued body had required, the pain of everything made its presence known again and had woken him from his uneasy sleep.

His eyes were a mix of confused emotions while he stared at Hedwig's empty cage beside his bed. One of the only good feelings running through him was knowing that at least his beloved owl was free to live her life in the open sky.

The nearly unbearable ache of depression and loss that had caused him to stir felt like it was only growing and that some part inside of him would never heal.

As Harry rolled over onto his back to think about the events that had led him here, more and more anger began to rise up within him, soon combining with his grief.

Over the years too many people had wronged him in one form or another and his mind couldn't help but fixate on those whose grave injustices had been the worst.

The more he thought about their atrocities the more rage he felt and the higher his blood pressure rose. Soon, unbridled fury pulsed through his blood, causing his body to become quite agitated. For comfort he subconsciously closed his fists around his wand and Invisibility Cloak, which he had still not let go of from the night before.

He was too preoccupied with the first thoughts of revenge and justice that stirred in the back of his mind to notice the inherent magic of each object that began to sync with the pulses of his own magical core. If he had been paying closer attention, he would have known just how familiar the magic of his cloak had felt; for it would have reminded him of the Veil that had taken Sirius from him.

Instead, with every beat of Harry's heart, his righteous anger spread throughout more and more of his body. Nearly every inch of his body was in agreement now: he had been subjected to enough and he would tolerate it no more!

He wanted justice for what others had done to him and put him through, and his magic agreed with his every word and thought. For the first time his magic, so like the color of his eyes, began to leak out of his core in steady ripples. It moved through and over his muscles and nerves, soothing the pain and agitation, and urging him to make the next step.

Rage, now mixed with his magic, was flowing through his blood with a sudden intensity that matched the raw fury that had filled him in Dumbledore's office upon learning some of what his _esteemed_ Headmaster had withheld from him. Sirius would have still been alive had he not been kept in the dark and treated like a child!

"Stupid Dumbledore, you arrogant old goat!"

His lips had been unable to contain his feelings anymore, but instead of a shout it had escaped into sound with a mere whisper that still managed to accurately and chillingly convey what he felt.

It angered Harry even more to think of just how many years he had been lied to. How many years had he suffered because Albus had decided what was best for him? He had been purposefully isolated and not once asked for input.

Shouldn't he have been a part of making some of those decisions? Shouldn't he have been given the chance to prepare for all of what being the Boy Who Lived would entail? The politics. The expectations. Hell, even a heads up would have been nice. Instead he had been forced to walk into everything blind and hadn't even known that he was a wizard until his eleventh birthday for Merlin's sake.

"Stupid Voldemort and his goddamn Death Eaters."

In this moment Harry wasn't sure whom he hated more. Sure, Voldemort had killed his parents and set his life on this course but in many ways what Dumbledore had made him go through since then had been far worse, unforgivable even. And then the man had the audacity to hire a petty man that had effectively signed the death warrant on his parents by revealing that a prophecy had been made to the other side!

At least Voldemort was honest with the fact that he hated Harry and wanted him to suffer. What was Dumbledore's excuse? At any rate Harry was sure that there were still more things that his illustrious Headmaster was not sharing with him. And Snape was an entirely different matter.

"Stupid Snape. I'm not my fucking father! You made sure of that with going to Voldemort."

Quite simply: he was sick of it. Finished with it. Done with not knowing what was really happening with events that directly affected him and him alone. Done with being hung out to dry in the public eye.

"Stupid Fudge and the rest of that worthless Ministry of Magic."

The floodgates were open now and there was no stopping his near-silent cries of rage.

"Stupid student body of Hogwarts and friends who don't know what that word means."

No one was spared from his wrath.

"Stupid Malfoy, both of them, for being such pricks."

"Stupid Rita Skeeter and that good-for-nothing pen of hers."

"Stupid Dursleys and what they think is such a perfect fucking life."

Harry continued to stare at the ceiling. His eyes were still red and puffy from the night before but he had no more tears to give. Not anymore.

"Stupid Wormtail for being such a little coward and betraying those who had cared for you."

Losing Sirius had hardened something within him, and as each word had left his lips his resolve to seek vengeance had only grown. He wanted them to suffer like he had suffered, to experience what he had experienced. Right down to the last little detention where they would be made to write lines in their own blood and to watch on in horror as it was etched into their skin.

"Stupid Umbridge and her insufferable Inquisitorial Squad."

Suddenly his fury lessoned for a moment so that his vision became all too clear as he made up his mind. It was so easy to see the path forward now.

"I'll make them all pay for what they have done to me."

A content hum vibrated over his skin as his magic continued to leak out of his core. His magic agreed with what its master was saying and it wanted to help Harry in any way that it could.

"I will study day and night if I have to, do whatever it takes to ensure that that they all know that what they did was wrong ."

His skin was practically glowing now as a faint emerald green danced along the surface of his body. Harry could feel his magic respond to his call, more so than he had ever felt before. The ripples of his considerable power were warm and comforting, and it was coming out of his center in such waves that for a moment the strength of it surprised him. Only once had he been this focused and in tune with his magic, but there were no Dementors here this time to direct his full might at.

This time it was all him, because he and he alone had finally figured out how to master his will. As he relished in the sensation of simultaneously controlling and being drowned in his power, his magic continued to ripple further outward. Slowly, it began to encompass his bed, his wand, and, more importantly, the entirety of his Invisibility Cloak.

Although his wand and cloak had already begun to beat in sync with his own core's magical pulse a few moments ago, it wasn't until Harry was conscious of that connection before he realized just how very strong it was.

He felt all of those items with his magic and in that moment he saw glimpses of infinite potential and power. Revenge was certain in his mind now. How could it not be given what he was experiencing?

"I will not stop until justice has been served and their wrongs have been righted!"

The magic surrounding Harry was the exact same color of his eyes now; he was so close to invoking the full power of his magic to aid him on his quest. His body felt more alive than it ever had and it was in stark contrast with how depressed and sad he had been yesterday when he had left King's Cross.

Now it felt like nothing and no one could hope to stand in his way. His heart was racing because of the sheer power that flowed through him.

Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, and while he couldn't comprehend what was happening to him he at least knew that he didn't want it to stop. He wanted to see this thing through. He _needed_ to see this through.

Suddenly, his mind cleared and he realized just how he could make it permanent, to make it last.

Words came to him then as if they had been whispered.

"I solemnly wish to use any and all magic that I can posses or claim to seek rightful vengeance on those who have wronged, crossed, or cheated me."

When the last word had left his lips, the pulse from his core increased in both size and frequency, sending out ripples of green magic that next encompassed the whole room. Soon it was coming out of him in a steady stream of emerald green and the intensity and power of what was happening to him nearly blinded him.

Through his narrowed eyes, however, he saw his Invisibility Cloak begin to emit faint ripples of the blackest black. The bursts of the dark color also began to increase in frequency and strength and soon the black and green were evenly matched. The ripples then did something strange and Harry lifted his head to get a better look.

They were blending together, merging into a single and more powerful wave; whose union caused a tantalizing shiver to run over all of Harry's nerve endings. It was a euphoric bliss.

Just as Harry was getting used to this feeling that was the complete opposite of the Cruciatus in every way, Harry felt this pull in his chest. It longed to connect with something and Harry's eyes widened when saw his cloak begin to slide up and over his arm and then cover his entire body.

Instinctively Harry welcomed and extended his magic over each and every smooth and perfect thread, reveling in the rhapsody of the sensation caused by the silky fabric against his exposed skin.

Harry could hardly keep his eyes focused on anything as both the physical and magical connection to his cloak overcame his ability to think straight.

Just as he felt he would be surely overwhelmed by whatever was happening, in the next moment everything returned to normal and in the back of his mind he got another image with such clarity that it caused him to gasp.

Suddenly, he was standing in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries again, staring out at the Veil. Only this time the faint murmurs were clear and distinct, and there was only one voice that he heard.

It called to him; it beckoned him.

"Come and join me," a male voice remarked.

"Justice can be yours."

The deep and rich voice continued to echo in Harry's mind as he watched the ripples of the Veil sway like there were in a soft breeze.

It was tempting, oh so tempting.

"You know you want it and your magic demands it."

Harry shivered as the vision ended and his awareness was transported back to the bed.

Gone was the physical color of his magic, and the cloak was quiet again as well. Still, he felt their strength and his magic stirred within his chest as he sat upright in bed, cradling the cloak in his hands.

He could feel that both his magic and the cloak wanted this; they wanted Harry to act so badly.

His mind still had the faintest remnants of hesitancy though; hadn't Sirius been killed walking through the Veil. Wouldn't he join the man in death if he followed through with this?

But his apprehension was short lived because just then his cloak began to hum in his fingers and a softer greenish black began to faintly glow from its center. It was so beautiful to see the evenly-matched colors spiral around one another as they radiated outwards, illuminating the room with a faint light. It told Harry that he would be protected.

He didn't contemplate his dilemma any longer. It felt too right to ignore, and in his heart he knew that this was not a trick of his mind. His magic wouldn't lie to him and his mind was quick to supply that according to that ridiculous prophecy only Voldemort could kill him.

With his doubts erased his magic soothed again and told him that he was making the right choice. He didn't know how to explain any of what was happening to him, just that it felt right and for the first time he was one-hundred percent positive of what he had to do.

Therefore, Harry was soon in the air, flying on his Firebolt with his cloak wrapped around him. One of his hands was guiding his path towards London while the other had his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

He made it to the entrance to the Ministry of Magic within minutes and entered just as easily as he had not even a week ago. It hardly mattered to him why the Ministry was so inept at security; most of his focus was centered on reaching the Veil as quickly as possible.

Unbeknownst to Harry, the ancient and primordial magic in his cloak had awakened and was aiding the one that was soon about to claim part of its undying and secretive essence.

It had been created for this purpose and it was simply fulfilling Death's wishes to gather certain individuals to his service. For Death was its true master and the cloak was made of the same primal magic that had been in place since the beginning.

Thus, in only a handful of minutes the cloak managed to subconsciously navigate Harry to the Death Chamber without him being seen by another soul.

For Harry the sight of where he had last seen his Godfather threatened to overwhelm him, but both his magic and the cloak wouldn't allow it.

This was where he needed to be and this was what he needed to do.

"Come…" Harry heard the Veil beckon once more.

"Join me and claim the justice that magic demands."

Harry swallowed back the last of his fear and uncertainty at the sight of the grey mist billowing in the otherwise calm and empty room. He wanted justice; he wanted to make right the wrongs that he had suffered.

It was the obvious decision given what had happened. He may not have fully understood the hows and the whys that had led him here; in fact, he understood very little.

But his magic felt like this was right and it was the only thing left that Harry could trust.

With his hands tightening the cloak around his body Harry walked forward. The magic of Death's Shroud protected him as he crossed the barrier between worlds.

When he reappeared on the other side his transformation into an Angel of Death would be complete, and the world would never be the same.

* * *

 **Well? Should I continue with this?**

 **Reviews would be really helpful and I hope you like my idea for the pairing.**


	2. A Welcoming Party of One

**Author's Note:**

Thanks for the encouraging reviews. I have been able to write a lot recently and have several updates planned to _The Dark Lord's Equal_ and _Hogwarts: A History of Meddling_ as well.

This is my first time introducing my own character, but I really, really like him and I hope you do as well.

 **Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.**

* * *

The moment Harry crossed through the threshold of the Veil everything changed. One minute he had been the Harry Potter that he had always known, someone who had put up with far more crap than he should have, and the next his body was changed into something that he almost didn't recognize.

It started with his skin; more specifically, it began with every part of his body that was covered by his Invisibility Cloak. What felt like ice quickly worked its way inwards and before Harry could process anything else his entire body felt like it had been chilled almost to the point of freezing. Harry tried to look down to see what was happening but he found that he couldn't see anything at all.

No matter where he looked there was just darkness, and so he decided to rely on his sense of touch instead. His feet quickly discovered that he was floating while his hands explored the parts of his body that he could reach.

He was quite surprised to learn that he was naked.

Little did Harry know that all of this was completely normal. Well, not entirely normal since the vast majority of those that went through the Veil ended up shedding their physical body and dying in the conventional sense of the word. But normal enough for those few who possessed one of Death's Hallows.

Those legendary items had been created by Death and were made out of the same primordial substance that he was. Harry's cloak was one of several objects in existence and since it belonged completely and exclusively to Harry, the magic that resided within it was something that Harry could rightfully claim if he were worthy.

So it was only natural that a part of Death's power had thus entered into Harry's body to merge with the boy's own. The ancient and preternatural essence had started out cold in Harry's blood but as time went on it joined with everything that Harry was.

Soon, Harry began to feel like the ice was melting and in some sense it was; except that instead of the substance warming, Harry's perception of temperature had been altered. His body had been irrevocably changed by the small addition of Death's power so as to be capable of existing in both the world of the living and the dead.

It was a hallmark of those chosen by Death, and it came with the added benefit of making Harry truly and effectively immortal. It didn't matter that it was a mere fraction of the sheer might of Death; even a small portion of infinity was still infinite in nature.

Harry's body continued to go through these and other modifications as he drifted aimlessly within the dark expanse.

His breathing continued out of habit but he would soon come to realize that his body no longer required oxygen – not that any even existed on this side of the great divide.

A few minutes later and Harry's transformation was nearly complete. All that was left was a single addition, and it started in Harry's shoulder blades.

The sharp and sudden pain was enough to force him to arch his entire body backwards. It felt like his bones were breaking outward through his skin and Harry stifled a scream by biting down hard. Fortunately, the searing sensation didn't last for long and then it was over just as suddenly as it had started. He was changed now, forever.

It took him several useless breaths to focus himself. In the past hour he had gone from a nearly uncontained rage to a blissful euphoria where his magic had made him feel invincible. From there he had walked through the Veil and had gone on to confusion and then wonder and then pain.

But now he felt perfect. Better than perfect, in fact. Everything about him felt different and better and stronger.

His muscles felt like they contained this strength that was just brimming under the surface, ready to be used at a moment's notice. Perhaps best of all though was how his mind felt. For what felt like the first time since he could remember it was clear and there was no pain coming from his scar. In fact, his mind seemed like it was able to process things at a pace that had eluded him in the past.

It was cataloguing what was happening to him even now as the blackness gave way to light and the outlines of a familiar place slowly began to appear. With each second that passed more and more detail was added and Harry then became quite sure that he was standing on a platform at King's Cross Station. Only, there were no trains and there were no people. There was nothing, in fact, save for a single bench that became more apparent to him as light continued to flood the space.

The sudden influx of brightness caused him to squint his eyes and out of instinct he raised a hand to further shield them from the light. However, as his vision continued to adjust he realized that he was no longer wearing any glasses, and the more surprising thing was that it didn't seem to matter.

In truth, his vision was quite perfect now, and it confirmed that he was indeed quite naked. The other thing that he noticed while standing there was that he had wings and he now understood what the pain had been from.

Huge, black wings with hints of green could be seen out of his peripheral vision and it caused him to do a double take. They were massive and as he slowly explored them, both with his sight and experimenting with new muscles that moved them back and forth, an even bigger smile spread across his face.

They were beautiful and a part of him felt like he always should have had them because he just _knew_ how to use them. His mind even made the connection that perhaps this was the reason why he was so good on a broom. He had always been made for flight and his wings seemed as natural an extension of himself as any other body part that had been with him since birth.

Though, Harry didn't have as long as he would have liked to investigate his newfound appendages because, just then, he heard a soft thumping that grew steadily louder. Harry's eyes searched for the source of whatever it was that sounded like it was flailing about.

The louder the noise became the more uncomfortable it made him. At the same time he was also beginning to feel the strangest sensation of familiarity.

There weren't many places for whatever it was to hide and so Harry cautiously approached the bench, which had an uncharacteristic shadow lurking beneath it.

Harry got to his knees to get a better look, instinctually able to balance out the new weight distribution from his wings. Upon peering underneath, he saw something that looked nearly identical to the child-like form of Lord Voldemort from that night in the graveyard just before the man had assumed a new body.

It looked just as pitiful now and he was torn with both wanting to comfort its wailing and to lock it behind closed doors and throw away the key.

He was just about to question what a little and nearly empty hourglass was doing hovering over its head when Harry realized that someone else was on the platform with him.

"Just ignore _that_ ; you cannot help it anyways."

Harry's head whipped around as he stood, and he was greeted by a smiling and mysterious figure.

From the man's perfectly styled and golden brown hair to his well-defined and strong jaw line to the way his clothes expertly framed his body and left little to the imagination, Harry didn't think he had ever seen something more perfect. In fact Harry was sure that this was the one male that all men had been molded imperfectly from.

The man's eyes seemed to know what Harry was thinking about. Or it could have been because Harry's mouth was wide open.

"Careful, Mr. Potter, you're going to make me blush," the man smirked, his smile growing even more enigmatic.

"Wha…uhm… uhh," Harry struggled for a minute.

A spark swirled within the man's grey eyes as Harry watched the man look him up and down.

"You're not so bad yourself," the man winked playfully.

His voice was rich, almost seductive even.

It was then that Harry realized that he still wasn't wearing any clothes and his cheeks immediately took on a red tint. He tried to cover himself up with his hands, but he couldn't entirely hide the evidence of either his growing arousal or embarrassment.

This man was attractive and Harry couldn't hide his body's response to it.

Sure, Harry had realized he was gay after that disastrous last-ditch attempt at heterosexuality with Cho Chang but he felt like his mind could hardly string two words together in the presence of this man.

Fortunately, the Adonis staring him down didn't make him suffer _that_ much longer and with a snap of his fingers Harry suddenly found himself in a comfortable robe that fit nicely and even allowed his wings to protrude through the fabric.

The blush on Harry's face was still there, however, when the man next spoke.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the stranger responded to the question that Harry was too preoccupied with other things to even ask.

"I am Mikhail, and welcome to the In-Between."

Mikhail smiled and began to walk towards Harry, stopping at about arm's length.

"I am here to give you a tour so-to-speak and to answer any immediate questions that you may have."

The man's eyes were full of mirth and Harry got the sense that Mikhail had very much enjoyed seeing him fully nude.

"Okay," Harry managed despite the man's closeness.

He really was quite beautiful and it had come as such a welcomed shock that his mind was only now just catching up.

The man's grey eyes continued to stare at him expectantly for the several seconds it took Harry to get a hold of his thoughts and think of the questions that he wanted to ask.

"I'm Harry Potter," he brilliantly started with.

The man smiled and nodded; he was trying his best not to have too much fun with this. Though, it wasn't that difficult when he could remember being in Harry's position not _that_ long ago.

Of course, he had not shared in the mutual attraction to the pretty blond girl who had greeted him his first time to the In-Between.

"I knew that already," teased Mikhail.

Harry mumbled something about pleasantries before starting his questions in earnest.

"So, what is this place? The 'In-Between' you said?' What does it have to do with the Veil that I walked through to get here?"

Harry did have a lot of questions but he had enough mental awareness to know that he wanted to pace himself.

"The In-Between is a place that is halfway between the world of the living, where you came from, and the dead, where all souls go to when they die. The In-Between, as we call it, is like a purgatory of sorts where things are not quite dead and not quite alive. The Veil is an instant doorway to death for many people, but for the rare few," and at this Mikhail looked at Harry pointedly, "it is how we go back and forth between the realms."

Harry digested that quickly.

"So, I'm not dead then and my magic was right in telling me to come here?"

"Yes," Mikhail nodded.

"You possessed one of Death's Hallows and, after finding you worthy, it bestowed upon you the rare honor of being directed here in which you were given a small fraction of Death's power that has now transformed you into one of his Angels."

It took Harry a little longer to wrap his mind around that.

"Which is what I am as well," Mikhail further clarified and then demonstrated with the sudden appearance of his own set of wings.

They too were as black as night but whereas the tips of Harry's feathers matched the color of his green eyes, Mikhail's wings had tints of a silvery grey. The man was somehow even more beautiful and quite a sight to behold.

Now though Harry had even more questions and to be quite honest he didn't know exactly where to start.

"Death's Hallows?" Harry thought it easiest to begin there.

"Death has a very complicated job – and he will explain it to you all himself of course – but the simple answer is that _he_ can't really affect the world of the living directly. Therefore, he has the occasional need for individuals who can operate as his agents without breaking any of the rules. In fact, it's something that is encouraged by both sides from time to time to keep the cosmic balance as even as possible."

Mikhail gave Harry a minute to process what he was saying. As someone who had been in Harry's position he remembered that feeling of asking a single question only to discover that the answer brought at least two more questions.

"Hallows are items of great magical power," Mikhail then explained. "They are created by Death and handed directly to men and women in situations that almost always become the stuff of legend. There is only a handful in existence at any one time and they frequently change hands because of the awesome powers they grant and the envy they inspire. However, the Hallows themselves represent a sort of test to see who among the various owners would wield them in a manner approved by Death. Fewer still are the ones who would subconsciously accept what Death would offer them and find themselves where you now stand."

Again, Mikhail looked at Harry expectantly before opening up a book that Harry hadn't known the man had been holding.

"Your Hallow," Mikhail read, "was the Invisibility Cloak."

Harry's improved mental capacities had already connected that on account of what had transpired in his bedroom but his eyes widened more in response to being told that Death had chosen him and that deep down some part of him had agreed.

"My magic wanted this…" Harry confirmed what a small part of him already knew.

His response had been directed more to himself than as a question to Mikhail but the other man answered anyways.

"Yes, and it says here that the cloak passed through your family from the person who had originally received it from Death, one Ignotus Peverell."

The name meant nothing to Harry.

"Like I said earlier, Hallows frequently become the stuff of legends and yours is no exception. I believe its story was told in _The Tales of_ ," Mikhail paused to check his guess in the book, "I was right… _The Tale of Beedle the Bard_."

Harry filed that little tidbit away for later.

"Anyways," Mikahil continued to read through the page he was on, "the cloak passed down through Ignotus' line until a daughter married into the Potters and ultimately to you."

"And not one of them was worthy?" Harry was a bit shocked. What had he done – or not done – that had made Death choose him? More importantly, what had he been chosen for?

'One thing at a time,' Harry told himself.

"Perhaps one or two might have been," Mikhail confirmed in his ledger, "however, none of them were in the position that you were in to really contemplate that lifestyle, and so their magic never agreed to it."

"So why did I make the cut and what did I make the cut for?"

Nearly everyone asked that questioned and Mikhail gave the standard response while again reading more about Harry in Death's ledger.

"Well, I'm not sure I have the exact answer to the first question, but you can always ask Death when you see him though. Hmm, wait a minute," Mikhail paused as he continued reading something that had caught his eye in his special book.

"Wow, you have been through an impressive amount of shit."

Then Mikhail turned the page, and then another one, and then another one.

At this point Mikhail looked up from the book and into Harry's emerald eyes. Aside from his instant attraction to the way the boy in front of him looked, Mikhail was drawn in by just how similar Harry was to him. It wasn't even because of the questions the boy asked because everyone asked those; it was because of the similarities in their human life, of which Mikhail hadn't even suffered through half of what Harry had and still retained some semblance of the appropriate ethics and morals required for this job.

Harry was obviously someone very special and so Mikhail decided on a slightly softer approach than he had taken with the last recruit.

"I asked very similar questions, Harry, when I first got here. I was finished with taking a passive approach to my fate and resolved to do things differently, and that was when the Hallow that I unknowingly carried saw that I was ready for a change. I would wager that it was a similar experience for you, and between you and me that is rather impressive given what you've gone through even though I don't know how horrible it must have been. I've seen a lot of people go to the extremes in those situations and you must have stayed remarkably true to the person you were born as or you wouldn't be here. Death needs people like you on the front lines to not abuse the power he has given them."

"Not everything was painful, there are some truly great memories that I carry with me," Harry said softly remembering in that moment the best of his experiences.

"All the more reason then for you to be here now if you were able to hold onto those moments and treasure them."

Mikhail had an understanding look in his eyes.

It was Harry's turn to look at Mikhail expectantly now.

"I don't think I have time to read through all of your life's history right now, but I assume that something recently just happened that finally tipped the balance where you swore vengeance on someone?"

Harry began to nod.

"Except, it wasn't just wanting to make others suffer and hurt for the sheer joy of it, there was a sense of justice behind it, a sense of righteous retribution. One that has a limit and wouldn't have turned into violence just for the sake of violence, more like an eye for an eye. How am I doing so far?"

Harry nodded again with a slightly confused look on his face. For someone who had he had just supposedly met, Mikhail sure knew an awful lot about how he thought.

"Like I said, that is exactly the sort of thing that Death requires from time to time. Some people do very bad things and need to pay for the price for it, like that thing for instance."

Mikhail pointed to the bench and to the sickly child-like troll that poked its head out every so often to softly wail and hiss at the light.

"Do you know anything about that?" Mikhail asked.

Harry shook his head.

"That is, or rather was a part of Voldemort's soul," he explained with a distinctively sour expression on his face. "It was hiding in your scar and was severed from your body when you came through the Veil."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. His brain, meanwhile, worked at a ferocious pace to confirm what Mikhail had said by the overwhelming supporting information it found: the pain when Voldemort had been near; the visions; being told by Dumbledore that Voldemort had literally transferred a bit of his powers into him when he had woken up in the hospital following the events in the Chamber of Secrets; everything.

Plus, the longer Harry looked at the sickly fragment of Voldemort's soul the harder it was to think of it as anything other than the truth. It was like he just _knew_ it was true.

"How…?" Harry was at a loss for words while Mikhail checked something in his book.

"The man had mutilated his soul so many times in creating Horcruxes that it was unstable when the Killing Curse rebounded onto him and broke the soul that remained in his body into two parts, and one part lingered around until it latched onto you."

Mikhail looked at Harry like he was rather annoyed by the mere existence of Horcruxes.

"Horcruxes," Mikhail continued in that disapproving tone, "are vile ways that some wizards attempt in the hopes of immortality. They are formed when someone splits their soul through the unnatural act of killing someone and then that witch or wizard protects that part of their soul in another object that then binds the soul in their body to the world of the living. Thus, should something happen to his or her body, as long as their protected soul is okay, they don't die. It doesn't really work out for them in the long term, though, because Death has a huge pet peeve on anyone that attempts to cheat him for obvious reasons."

"So that's why Voldemort didn't die that night," said Harry as if he finally understood something he had been struggling to figure out for a long time.

"And more likely than not as to why you are here then," Mikhail pointed out.

He continued when Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Death would probably like you to deal with the man, and from what I've read it's possible there are a few more people as well whose actions could have created other unfavorable consequences."

"Deal with it? What sort of unfavorable consequences?" It was all becoming a bit much for him to take in all at once and he was a little exasperated.

"Which brings me to why you are here, specifically. Like me, you are now an Angel of Death, and will act in a manner that maintains the balance between the living and the dead. It's probably safe to say that this Voldemort person, and at least his Horcruxes, needs to be rendered mortal again if not destroyed entirely. As to some of the other people you might be expected to deal with, let's just say that certain people – Albus Dumbledore, for instance – have behaved in a manner that most likely has affected or will have an effect on the deaths of a great number of people. That is never good since it puts a great strain on Death's resources and throws the cosmic balance out of order. Death can explain it much better than I can."

This was always the hardest part in Mikhail's opinion.

"How do I do _that_ , exactly?"

"We should probably start with some of the powers that Death has given you, and if it's okay with you I would prefer if Death explained the rest."

Harry nodded as if to say okay while taking a minute to breath in the useless and nonexistent oxygen to calm himself.

When he was finished he opened his eyes and found that Mikhail had a stupid grin on his face.

"I should probably start with the fact that your body is not alive in the normal sense anymore, and breathing – while I can understand it is mostly out of habit – is no longer required."

Harry just blinked his eyes in response to that and for the next several minutes focused on the incredibly weird sensation of not inhaling and finding that he truly didn't need the oxygen. It felt very disconcerting.

"And I should probably mention that you are effectively immortal as well, having a small part of Death in you and whatnot. I mean, Death could still decide in the future that you have abused your position and withdraw his essence but for right now nothing can kill you."

That was somehow easier to process than the not requiring oxygen part.

"Wings obviously will help you to get around and you can choose to become truly invisible whenever you want. What else?" Mikhail mused while tapping his finger on chin.

"Right, you also have the ability to shadow travel – which I will teach you of course – and you will find a certain and immediate understanding of some of the darker aspects of magic that relate to both death and to the soul that will slowly be deposited into your mind as you go forward. Can't be an Angel of Death without knowing the material, you know?"

Harry just nodded at Mikhail with his mouth half open. It was literally one thing after another.

"Finally, you obviously still have the capacity for magic but you no longer really need a wand to do that. We can work on that too before you go back to Hogwarts to finish the part of your life as Harry Potter before moving onto other jobs that Death may have."

"How are you doing with all of this?" Mikhail asked and extended his arm to rest on Harry's shoulder.

The contact felt heavenly and Harry appreciated the physical support as he wrapped his brain around what he had just been told.

"I think I'll be all right just as long as you are finished."

Mikhail's face gave it away that he wasn't and Harry just sighed for him to continue.

"Of course, you should note that there are rules, and Death will be the one to explain these, because he really, really doesn't like it when they are broken. I can tell you though that these rules are important and constricting and will severely limit how you can impact the mortal world. It wouldn't be fair for us to be able to affect it like gods; Life isn't exactly happy that we have this much say in her domain but even _She_ understands the importance of what we do from time to time."

Mikhail moved closer to Harry and put his other hand on his other shoulder.

"I know this will take a little time to process – you should have seen my face when I first came here!"

Harry looked into Mikhail's welcoming grey eyes; he appreciated the other man's support and felt slightly self-conscious that his cheeks flushed again because of how closely they were standing to each other.

After learning everything that he had his mind now needed a break and despite his new gifts Harry was powerless to fight against his growing arousal in this situation. He just had the strongest desire to kiss the other boy to relieve some of the tension from the important way his future had just changed.

Mikhail just smiled at Harry – like some part of him knew what Harry was thinking, and it made Harry's face even redder.

"Come," Mikhail said with some effort as if he too had been contemplating something similar.

"Let me properly initiate you to Death's domain and introduce you to him. Then we can return to the world of the living and I'll teach you all I know."

That seemed as good of a plan as any to Harry's mind.

"Okay," said Harry softly.

"Let's go meet Death."

"I think he's really going to like you…" Mikhail then trailed off as if he remembered that he had needed to do something.

"Oops, almost forget something. Hang on," Mikhail smirked.

The next moment Mikhail turned to the bench and both his clothes and book disappeared and in the next moment the man's wings were fully extended. He wasn't naked, much to Harry's disappointment, but was wearing a very revealing outfit more appropriate on a Greek warrior except that instead of a sword a huge scythe appeared in his hand.

The power radiating from this form was a sight to behold.

"Your time has come, soul," the man said in a voice with such power and depth that Harry's knees felt week.

The sickly looking child squawked and tried to run out from under the bench but was silenced when the scythe split it in two and Harry watched the soul fly up and then fade away.

Mikhail then turned to Harry as his appearance returned to the way it had been.

"Shall we?"

Harry just gaped at the man. He didn't think it was possible for Mikhail to become any more attractive or this place any more surprising.

Mikhail extended his hand and Harry took it without question. They locked eyes for a moment before disappearing from the In-Between and arriving in the Land of the Dead.

* * *

 **Reviews would be really helpful. I don't think I've ever been so nervous with posting a chapter before. I really like Mikhail. A lot.**


	3. A Conversation With Death

**Author's Note:**

Really want to thank you again for the encouraging reviews and glad that Mikhail went over well. I took a little bit of a writing break after the holidays and hope 2018 is a little more productive than 2017 was for making progress on my stories.

 **Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.**

* * *

Whatever method of travel that Mikhail had employed felt awfully similar, in Harry's opinion, to his experience with Portkeys. Except that it had none of the unfortunate side effects usually that left Harry struggling to remain on his feet once they reached their destination.

To him, it was just like closing his eyes in one place and opening them in another with his feet firmly and comfortably remaining on the ground.

"Welcome to the Land of the Dead," Mikhail announced with grandeur.

The more experienced Angel of Death was still holding onto Harry's hand and looking back at Harry with a smirk on his face.

Harry's eyes, meanwhile, were busy searching his surroundings, and for a moment he felt that Mikhail was playing a trick on him.

"It's a parking garage that doesn't seem to have any cars," he stated bluntly.

Harry was confused and Mikhail squeezed his hand and then turned to Harry and smiled.

"That it is but it's also where all souls reappear when they die. Here, look over there," Mikhail then pointed.

Harry shifted his stance and saw that the seemingly endless expanse of the parking garage existed for a very good reason. For in the distance Harry could make out the longest line that he had ever seen. Tens of thousands of people made up of different ages and different ethnicities were standing one behind the other in a line that stretched farther than even Harry's advanced eyesight could see.

And yet if he focused on any one of them he inexplicably knew intimate details about their lives: whom they had loved, lost, and in some cases killed, just came to his mind automatically. It was quite alarming to be honest.

"It's weird isn't it? Seeing what their lives were like… in time you won't even think twice about it and will be thankful that the knowledge is just there for you to see should you need it."

Harry twisted his head to face Mikhail, absorbing what the attractive man had just said while wondering why his mind wasn't hit with the same details about Mikhail's life.

Mikhail must have noticed the change in Harry's disposition – or just remembered what had been going through his own mind when he had been in this position – for the older Angel soon gave an answer.

"I'm not dead yet Harry, and neither are you. So instead of knowing my life you are only aware of how long I may or may not have remaining – which is not quite like what you will see in others mind you. In both of our cases, our hourglasses represent the indeterminate amount of time that we have left. We can get into the specifics later but for now let's focus on these people."

Mikhail directed Harry's attention back to the line.

"They are waiting for judgment," explained Mikhail.

"Come, I'll show you… but first I think we need to change your appearance."

Mikhail's lip curled up in amusement and his eyes flicked from Harry's feet all the way up to the top of his head. Again, Harry felt his cheeks flush red but he didn't have all that long to think about it because just then Mikhail snapped his fingers.

Suddenly Harry found that he was wearing a very sharp suit that hugged his body perfectly and reminded him of those immaculately dressed and insanely wealthy Muggles that Vernon had always tried to emulate but never quite succeeded in getting anywhere close to.

"Now," Mikhail mused as he used his fingers to straighten Harry's tie, "we just need to teach you how to put your wings away."

Harry did his best to focus on what the other boy had said but Mikhail had also changed his attire to match Harry's, and Harry's mind was preoccupied with tracing the outline of the man's torso with his eyes.

"Harry, focus!" Mikhail grinned. Even though he was used to the looks he was still pleased with how Harry responded to him.

"You need to put your wings away. It makes the new souls nervous and Death has a very specific dress code that he would like us to follow when we are in the office."

"Oh.. uh.. okay then. How do I do that exactly?"

Grey eyes met green ones and it was obvious that both were enjoying each other's company despite the quite unusual circumstances.

"Just think about putting them away, folding them back into your body where they can rest. And then when you need them again just think about the reverse and them coming out of your body to beat powerfully against the wind."

Harry closed his eyes for the second attempt. Looking at Mikhail was too distracting to put in a solid effort for his first go around. Only, once Harry began to focus on his wings he found that he didn't really want to put them away; they felt too comfortable, too right where they were. But he focused anyways on drawing them into his body like Mikhail had instructed and felt the very moment that they began to shift.

Like changing clothes or traveling here from the In-between, the transformation was instantaneous and thankfully not painful like their appearance had been. One minute he had wings and the next he simply did not.

Harry opened his eyes to find Mikhail's face only a foot away and with a very big smile on his face.

"Very good, Harry!"

Mikhail's rich and praiseful voice washed over him, making his knees weak again.

"Come, I think we're ready for the next part of our tour."

Before Harry could ready his mind, Mikhail had turned and was tugging on Harry's hand to follow him.

Harry thought the continued physical contact might have been weird in most other situations but he was finding that all rules seemed to go out the window where Mikhail was concerned. Besides, it was a nice change of pace for Harry and with everything quite literally changing around him he just decided to go with whatever easy comfort being in Mikhail's presence seemed to provide. Just like his decision to come through the Veil, this too felt right.

On the way to the front of the line the other Angel of Death pointed out some of the features of what he called the basement level of the Land of the Dead.

"Death likes the idea of making a soul's first contact with the other side being something familiar yet non-threatening. It changes for certain cultures that are more rural but a parking garage is an innocuous place for most these days. As you can see," Mikhail pointed with his free hand behind them while leading Harry closer and closer to the front, "the newly deceased enter way back there and wait for their judgment over here. The Judger of Souls," Mikhail indicated with a nod of his head towards a most-appropriate looking and stoic individual with a rather large and dreadful book open before him, "will decide what type of eternity awaits the newly dead. He – or she depending on the shift – will weigh the person's deeds against various objects to find something that evens out."

Harry looked on with great fascination as he witnessed several of these weighing ceremonies proceed one right after the other. Apparently, a series of balls of varying shades between black and white were used. It didn't take a genius to determine what balls meant which fate awaited a person, though Harry was curious why so many shades existed.

It didn't seem to be a Heaven or Hell situation.

"Why are their so many choices to be weighed against?" Harry whispered to Mikhail as they paused to watch a few more.

"Very few people are either completely and irrevocably good or evil; thus, most exist in varying degrees between them. To be fair, people are given an eternal life that match one of seven descriptions as to how they behaved in the mortal world."

"So what does one have to do to qualify for either the really bad or the really good place?"

They kept whispering now that they were near the front of the line and a few of the closer souls kept looking at them suspiciously because they were outside of the line that the newly dead were waiting in.

"It varies from person to person since there are always extenuating circumstances but anything dealing with genocide, withholding universal healthcare, crimes against humanity, or believing in trickle down economics is about as close to pure evil as one can be."

"So what awaits _those_ people?" Harry asked, knowing full well where Uncle Vernon was going to end up. The man had abused him too much over the years and had a habit of spouting off racist diatribes against the children of immigrants demanding that they return to their shithole countries. In Harry's mind the man had done many things to justify him being equal to a black ball, and Aunt Petunia wasn't far behind him.

"Come, I'll show you," Mikhail tugged at Harry's hand again, bringing him back to the present.

The other boy led them past the front of the line where the judgments took place. Behind the scale used to weigh the souls against how bad or good they were there was a divide in which to the left was an elevator that the newly judged souls took and to the right was one for Death's employees.

Harry thought the sign, 'Employees Only,' was hilarious while at the same time wondering if the employees lived elsewhere and commuted to work.

"Just how many people work for Death?" Harry asked instead as Mikhail pressed the up button.

"A few thousand, give or take. There are only a few of _us_ – about ten or so – but things have gotten so bureaucratic lately that Death has needed to hire people solely to deal with the paperwork."

"Paperwork?" Harry turned his head questioningly while they stepped in and turned around in time to see the door close.

"Why is there paperwork?"

Mikhail sighed. It was clear this was the part of the job that he did not like.

"I'll go through everything with you but some of the notices you will have to file include flight plans, submitting reimbursement requests, keeping accurate records of time of death, and so much more. It is quite annoying actually and with the increased number of litigious individuals crossing over we have had to make sure that none have been taken before their time in case they are able to convince the Judge that they didn't have all the time allotted to change their eternal destination.

"Don't worry, Harry," Mikhail squeezed his hand reassuringly, "I'll make sure you are trained well and are capable before going off on your own."

Harry just shook his head; he hated paperwork and that was far easier to think about than the little twist his stomach had made at the thought of not always having Mikhail with him. Which was ridiculous given how short a time they had known each other.

"I'll admit it's a pain, but all in all it's not _that_ bad," Mikhail began.

"And I'll be there every step of the way, okay?"

Mikhail smiled at him; he was finding that there was something so easy about being around Harry. None of the other Angels were like this boy; granted, six of them were women and the other males were about as exciting as cold toast.

But still, Mikhail hadn't had this much fun since Death and him had cleaned up after the war with Grindelwald.

"You promise?"

Harry then gave Mikhail a strange look; like he wanted to believe the other boy but that he had been let down too many times to really trust someone else. Hadn't that been one of the reasons that he was in this situation in the first place?

It was a look that Mikhail had seen from time to time in his own reflection before Death had chosen him.

Quickly Mikhail pushed the stop button on the elevator and turned to face Harry properly.

"I realize how much I keep throwing at you and I totally understand how unsettling all of this can be at first. However," Mikhail's eyes pierced through Harry's, "you will not have to go through this alone, okay? I will be there as much or as little as you need or want me to be."

It was easy for Mikhail to say that; he liked Harry and honestly could see them becoming great friends if not more. Besides, even if they didn't end up hitting it off – which was doubtful - Mikhail was just the kind of person that liked to know that what he said meant something; that it could be relied on.

"Truly," said Mikhail. He was holding both of Harry's hands now and had brought them up to chest height.

Harry's eyes were thoughtful and his cheeks were tinted with red again. He was able to nod though and really hoped that Mikhail didn't let him down like so many others had.

Harry only nodded and with a final squeeze Mikhail released their hands; he was now hyper aware of his attraction to the other boy and knew that now just wasn't the time for him to act. He knew that Harry had other, more important things on his mind.

Mikhail had waited centuries for someone like this and he understood that he could wait a little while more to ensure that he didn't screw it up.

The elevator soon began moving again and they reached the Level One seconds later.

Immediately the doors opened and Harry's jaw dropped. He most certainly never wanted to end up here considering that the worst of the very worst were trapped here in an eternal hell that suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

"Whatever atrocities these people committed in life are now being returned, times ten, forever. To be honest you get used to the screams after a while, but thankfully we rarely have to come down here. I myself only venture down to see how one or two people are doing," Mikhail's face grew serious for a moment and Harry knew better than to ask.

At the same time, Harry couldn't entirely prevent himself from thinking just how much satisfaction he would get in seeing one or two people down here himself.

That honestly made all of this a little easier to stomach knowing that one had to truly earn their place down here.

"Moving on," Mikhail announced as the door closed and the elevator began to ascend.

They soon passed Level Two through Level Six and Harry now understood the subtle differences between ball color and how they corresponded to starkly different eternal fates. However, in the back of his mind he idly wondered where Sirius and his parents were spending their forevers. Would he one day be able to see them again as well?

To be frank the intense longing to see them again unsettled him and he pushed those thoughts aside to focus on what Mikhail was explaining to him.

Level Seven was essentially the paradise that Harry had thought it would be, and they spent the longest time there before Mikhail shuttled them back into the elevator.

"That takes care of where all the souls go, now I'll show you where we work and introduce you to Death."

Harry was slightly apprehensive with this, but Mikhail waved his fears off.

"Don't be nervous, Harry. You absorbed one of Death's Hallows so he's bound to like you."

Harry made an attempt at a weak laugh and subsequently braced himself for what the opening of the elevator doors would reveal.

But whatever he had been expecting, he hadn't been expecting this. It looked too normal, too boring, too much like the offices that Uncle Vernon liked to make approving comments about on his nightly programs.

There were desks and chairs and cubicles and paper, so much paper.

"Every soul that lives and dies has a file associated with it and we have to make sure that all of them get processed correctly. One little clerical error where someone's life history doesn't match his or her judgment or the time of death doesn't match exactly to when it was that little hourglass should have run out and we have ourselves a very big problem on our hands."

Mikhail then explained the ins and outs as they got off the elevator and walked through the Office of Death. It was huge and there were thousands of workers and everywhere he looked seemed to go on forever. Much like the parking garage it was a space without end.

Harry stayed close to Mikhail as he pointed out the various departments for reimbursement and such and introduced him to a few of the better clerks that kept everything running along smoothly and would therefore make Harry's life a lot easier in the long run.

"Mostly these are people who made it into Level Four and applied for the jobs as something to escape their rather dull eternity. If they are good at their various assignments," Mikhail whispered into Harry's ear, "then Death might approve them eligible for Level Five which has _significant_ perks."

Harry thought that sounded pretty fair and tried to familiarize himself as much as possible with the layout. He shuddered to think that he would have to navigate this labyrinth of cubicles alone one day.

"And over this way is where Death's personal office is located. Most of the time you need to schedule an appointment with him several weeks in advance because he is always backed up with souls looking to challenge either being taken from the mortal world too soon or disagreeing with how harshly they were judged. Again, it is very important to keep as accurate as notes as possible and I will be with you for the first few to make sure you get the hang of it."

Harry could not have been more relieved to hear that. Not only did that mean he would have instruction on making sure he carried out his responsibilities correctly, whatever _those_ might be, but he would get to spend more time with Mikhail.

"So…" Mikhail then turned and faced him.

"Are you ready to meet Death?"

Mikhail's eyes were alight and he had a grin on his face.

"As ready as I will ever be."

"That's the spirit!" Mikhail placed his arm around Harry and led him through the double doors.

"Hey Kathy," Mikhail greeted Death's receptionist once they stepped inside.

"I have Death's newest Angel here," he presented Harry to the attractive woman in a smart blouse that had been tucked into a pencil skirt.

"Ooooh, I heard a rumor that we were getting another one."

She walked around the desk with her six inch heels clicking on the floor and looked Harry up and down like he was a piece of meat. It made him slightly uncomfortable because he did not return her aggressive affections in the slightest.

"Yes, he is something, isn't he?" Mikhail agreed while keeping his eyes on her.

"I'll say." The grin on her face widened.

"I'm Kathy Parker," she held out her hand to Harry.

"Harry, Harry Potter," he replied and her face recognized his name immediately.

Her eyebrows raised and she became even more interested in the new Angel of Death.

"Oooooh… Death has been looking forward to meeting you!" she gushed.

"He's been complaining about how long it has taken you to get here in fact."

"Well, Harry is here now. Is _He_ free or should we come back? I can always take Harry on a tour of the place if he is in the middle of something."

"No no no," her hands shook back and forth quickly, "Death will want to be disturbed for this. Just go right in."

She motioned with her hands towards the double doors in the middle of the room.

Harry waved goodbye and Kathy told him to come visit whenever he liked.

Before he could even think of a response, however, Mikhail turned to face him one more time and straightened up his tie again, his lips were now only inches away from Harry's.

"Now, don't be nervous, Harry. Death will love you, I'm sure of it. Feel free to ask him any questions, okay?"

Harry nodded as a frown took over his face.

"You're not coming with me?"

Harry began to chew on his lip as his nerves began to get the better of him; he had no idea how he was supposed to act in front of Death without Mikhail there.

Mikhail was quick to assuage Harry's fears, though.

"It's probably better if you talk with him alone, and to be honest I do have some paperwork of my own to catch up on considering all the time I will be spending with you in the future to get you trained up. However, I will be here when you get back and I promise not to leave again until you feel comfortable. You will learn the layout of this place, know where the supply cabinet is, and then we can go to the World of the Living and get you settled into being Harry Potter again. Deal?"

Harry reluctantly nodded.

"Good, now it's best not to keep him waiting any longer. _Good luck, Harry_ ," Mikhail whispered in Harry's ear, before positioning his hands to turn Harry around to face Death's door.

"You'll be fine." Then, Mikhail squeezed the back of Harry's neck affectionately and straightened the way that Harry's suit lay on his shoulders.

Mikhail was painfully aware of just how close his lips had come to the crook of Harry's neck and he felt the shiver that ran through the other boy. However, he silently watched as Harry bravely walked towards Death's mahogany door.

It took only seconds for Harry's hand to press downward on the ornate wooden handle, but he paused as the door clicked open and turned around a final time.

Mikhail gave Harry as supportive of a look as he could muster and nodded his head encouragingly before Harry took another useless, deep breath before turning and heading inside.

When the door closed and Harry was in the other room, Mikhail threw his head back and sighed. He had only known Harry for a few hours and already he was beyond smitten with the boy.

"That bad, huh?" Kathy smiled as her eyesbrows bounced up and down excitedly. Her tongue ran against her upper lip while her eyes gave Mikhail a knowing look.

"You have no idea," Mikhail quipped while shaking his head clear and heading off to run errands so he could be back in time when Harry's conversation with Death was finished.

* * *

Harry glanced around the large office. Each wall had a large bookcase on it that seemed to hold more books and scrolls than should have been allowed, even with magic.

On the far wall was a giant window that was split into several different sections with each one showing a different view. If Harry had to guess he would have said that the seven windowpanes on the far left were of the various levels of eternity that he had just visited. However, he had no idea what the different sections on the right corresponded to.

In the center of the room was a large desk made of the same wood as the door and the bookcases if the similar color and graining pattern of the material were anything to go by.

Behind the desk and in front of the wall of windows was a large chair, bigger than any chair that he had ever seen before. The chair was turned around, with its back facing towards Harry so that he couldn't see who was sitting in it.

After several seconds of working up the courage to announce his presence, Harry cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"K-kathy said you wanted to see me as soon as possible, sir." His voice had broken several times and he was a bigger ball of nerves than even Neville had ever been inside the Potions' classroom.

Death's chair swiveled around before Harry could blink, but once he caught sight of the man known as Death, Harry's jaw practically fell off it was hanging so low.

The man looked nothing like the skeletal figure that Harry had subconsciously been expecting. In fact, Harry felt like he needed to take a seat because for the second time that day he was facing someone whose beauty he just didn't have the words to properly describe.

Death was more than hot or sexy, and only after catching sight of the smirk on Death's face did Harry begin to process just how much of a fool he had to look like standing there in his current state.

He slowly closed his mouth and tried to straighten his features as best he could, which only made the light in Death's eyes shine even brighter.

"Well look who we have here. Mr. Potter in the flesh," Death leaned back in his chair and brought his hands to tent together just underneath his chin.

"I've been hoping to meet you for some time. You have no idea how happy I am to see that you finally accepted one of my Hallows."

The man's smile made Harry weak in the knees, the legs, and the toes.

Harry saw a small chair appear in front of the man's desk and he sat down as quickly as he could.

"I decided that enough was enough." Harry's voice was a little stronger now that he wasn't so focused on remaining upright.

What was with these men and how abnormally attractive they were? First Mikhail and now Death, was there something in the water over here?

"Yes, well you certainly have been through a lot, that's for sure. Who has been guiding you, by the way, introducing you to everything since you started on your new path?"

"Um, Mikhail has been. He just dropped me off to file some paper work I believe and then he said he would meet me when we're done."

"Splendid!" Death mused, tapping his fingers together over and over again.

"Mikhail is one of the very best around here; you will learn a lot from him."

Harry nodded his head and couldn't help the genuine and appreciate smile that formed on his face.

"He has already been very helpful in beginning to explain everything."

"I take it you have covered the big items like what you now are and your general responsibilities?"

"For the most part, I think. There has been a lot of information to go over. He did say that he preferred to leave some of the specifics as well as covering the rules to you."

"I see," Death remarked. "Not all of my Angels play equal roles and I think he was right to leave more of the particulars that concern you to me. I'm not sure even he understands how important your role will be."

Death quickly continued upon seeing Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"You know that I am Death and in charge of all souls that leave the mortal world?"

Harry nodded quickly.

"From time to time there are certain developments on Earth that can significantly affect the balance between life and death, which really must exist in equal parts or very unpleasant things begin to happen. Therefore, from time to time I have need of certain individuals that can act on my behalf to make sure the cosmic balance remains even and steady so that both Life and myself are happy. Mikhail explained that and how my Hallows work, correct?"

Again Harry moved his head up and down.

"For the most part…"

"By accepting my Hallow – which yours was my favorite by the way – you have become one of those individuals whose work is of the utmost importance to me. In your case, what I need from you from is greater than what I have needed from my Angels in the past. The damage that Voldemort and Dumbledore have already done is enough to require millennia to undue, and I simply cannot afford either of them to tip the balance any more in my favor. Life is quite put out with me at the moment."

Harry turned his head thoughtfully to the side. From where he sat it seemed like Death was even more annoyed with those two than he was, and he honestly didn't know how he felt about that.

"I think you are the only other person that could understand just how _irritated_ I am with both Dumbledore and Voldemort. On one hand I have a wizard that has managed, either intentionally or unintentionally, to create seven – SEVEN – of those blasted Horcrux things."

Harry's eyes widened, thinking back to that partial soul that Mikhail had killed, the one that had been lodged in his scar and knowing now that there had been that many others. Death ignored his horrible realization in favor of continuing his rant.

"Tom's souls, all of them, belong in my domain!"

Harry couldn't argue with Death there.

"On the other hand I have a wizard who puts way too much stock in a simple and childish prophecy. If Dumbledore wanted to he could have ended this war by himself already. Anyone can destroy a Horcrux, and the man could even have removed the one harmlessly from inside of you. Instead that man allows Voldemort to run free because he feels he isn't the one to defeat the _Dark Lord_ because of some stupid prophecy, thereby giving it even more weight."

Death rolled his eyes and Harry could feel a rising heat being emitted from the man. He was getting angry.

"Here, let me show you," Death reined in his anger somewhat and moved toward the windows on the right.

Harry got up and followed the man, stopping in front of the window farthest to the right.

"I don't know what came before me, if there even was anything. All I know is that one day I existed much as you see me now. I wasn't alone though and soon came to know this other individual as the personification of Life itself. I suppose you could say _She_ is my twin so-to-speak."

Death paused to touch the window with his well-manicured hand. Ripples of energy moved outward from where his fingers rested against the glass and an image then began to form as the swirls settled.

"In time the world came to be and the first souls were born; even to this day I don't know where they come from or how they came to exist in the first place."

Harry watched as the Earth formed before his eyes and the first humans came into existence.

"Life and I soon learned that the souls changed everything between us. At first, the only souls were alive and Life found that She possessed new powers. In fact, during these early years She was much, much stronger than I was. That began to change when the first human souls died and entered my domain. With their deaths I found new strength within myself that gave me the power to create all that you see on this side of the divide."

Harry was utterly mesmerized with both what Death was saying and with what his eyes saw unfold before him. He honestly didn't have words to describe the awe and wonder that he felt inside of him from witnessing the origins of life. It was something that he never expected to witness, and that somehow made it all the more precious that not even Death knew how the beginning became to be.

"Soon Life and I entered into a comfortable existence as the first few eons passed. More souls came into existence and lived their short lives on Earth before dying, and gradually both of our powers and domains grew. The number of souls on Earth at any one time remained somewhat constant but tended to net one or two more every generation or so."

Death had a reminiscent look in his eyes, as if a small part of him longed to experience those simple times once more.

"Unfortunately, that relative harmony was not to last as we next witnessed the birth of souls capable of magic. Their arrival changed everything and both Life and myself spent quite a few years adjusting to how different their souls were. You see, just a single witch or wizard's soul is worth many thousands of times the average non-magical soul in terms of how much power we gain from it. Life and I were quite affected by the bolus of energy given off by the lives and deaths of the first magical souls, and for a few hundred years the differences between our powers fluctuated wildly. Then, however, we reached a sort of equilibrium and it didn't take Life and I long to realize that there came a point in time where the ratio between the number of non-magical and magical souls tended towards a singe constant that could be alive at any one time. Something on the order of twenty five thousand to one, give or take a few hundred as people live and die like they do."

Death paused in his story to allow the screen that they had just moved to stand in front of to catch up.

"I should also mention that with each death I accrue a little more of a soul's energy than Life does while they are living to allow Life and I to be relatively equal to each other in the long run, so you can imagine just how lopsided things were between us when no magical souls had yet crossed over."

Harry nodded at Death; of everything that he was learning that was one of the easier things for him to wrap his brain around.

"You might then be wondering where all of this is headed, and to get _there_ I have a little more background to cover."

Death nodded his head toward the screen that had finally caught up to where he had wanted it to progress in his story. As Harry's eyes watched the screen melt away into the coming scenes, Death's rich and surprisingly soothing voice walked Harry through the next bit of history.

"Under normal circumstances one soul dies and is replaced with the birth of another: a mortal soul for a mortal soul and a magical one for a magical one. Even the occasional premature death can be replaced without much fanfare since two individuals, somewhere, are always capable of doing the necessary act to create another life. The problems that Life and I have run into, however, have been relatively recent, starting around two thousand years ago. And I should mention that the problem rarely stems from non-magical souls, since they are _made up of_ , "Death seemed to choose those words carefully, "so much less in terms of the energy that they contain. Not even the many wars or pandemics have caused that much of a strain on the mortal replacement rate since, again, there are always people capable of having children quite quickly. Large numbers of them in fact! From the very old to those who have recently gone through puberty, it doesn't matter."

At this point, Death took a quick pause and ran his fingers over the window. The image shimmered and changed to give a different perspective.

"Witches and wizards on the other hand are different because their numbers are so much lower. Also, there is just something about a magical soul that just doesn't want to be rushed into existence before its time. In most cases, I might add. It doesn't help that magical people seem incapable of wanting to have more than two or three children. Those that have more are quite rare. Of course, that isn't the only way that magical souls can be born as I'm sure you recognize that there are the so-called Muggle-borns. However, I'll let you in on a little secret: the vast majority of those have magical fathers and their birth resulted from an illicit affair that the mother no longer remembers. Some wizards have trouble keeping it in their pants and don't realize or care what results from those meaningless unions."

Harry's incredulous gasp caused Death to stop talking and the man turned and faced his newest Angel.

"It's true," Death stared at him pointedly.

"It really is quite rare for a magical soul to spontaneously appear from two non-magical parents. Has only happened about three times, in fact."

Death gave Harry a moment to compose himself, and continued when Harry nodded, though his face still had a look of partial disbelief.

"Anyways, back to what I was saying about making sure there is a constant, yet slightly increasing number of magical and non-magical souls that remain in the right proportions. I've already explained that while a large number of Muggle deaths can easily be corrected for, that isn't the same for magical souls and therein lies the root of the problem. For example, during the rise of Grindelwald many witches and wizards died and their souls couldn't be replaced that easily; at least, not right away. What ended up happening was that non-magical souls suddenly began to live longer and a huge explosion of Muggles began having children to make up for the loss of magical energy. It was quite a feat mind you, and the human population nearly doubled in a very short time frame. However, now the ratio was even more out of balance but over the next few years witches and wizards began having more children. Actually, what really happened was that a hell of lot more Muggle-borns were made and they flooded into the wizarding world a decade later. For a few years after World War II – which is not very long at all in the grand scheme of things – things were more or less beginning to return to the normal ratio."

Death made the motion to move to the last windowpane before the seven focusing in on the various levels of eternity started on the left. Given that this was the last one, and that they were now discussing the time period in which his parents had lived, Harry reasoned that they were almost finished.

"You can imagine how well-received those Muggle-borns were into a society that valued purebloods among all others. The time was ripe for someone like Tom Riddle who had never liked Muggles in the first place to really rise into power. Of course, the number of witches and wizards that died alongside your parents only recreated the problem caused by Grindelwald and history soon repeated itself again. The world's population of Muggles doubled again and that caused more and more magical souls – be they pureblood, half blood, or Muggle-born – that needed to be created. Which brings us to the present," Death waved his hand in front of the window for a final time.

"We are at a point where some souls are far outliving their allotted time – either through magic or rapidly advancing Muggle technology – and some souls are robbed of their time on Earth. Whomever decides the cosmic balance demands that things be balanced, and the later causes me so many headaches with people complaining they didn't have long enough to show how good they were you don't even want to know. In the past, Life and I have tried and were mostly successful in keeping things balanced. To be fair, most of the burden falls on me because when large numbers of magical beings die before their allotted time Life isn't able to absorb all of the power that she should while I end up collecting more than my fair share. Thus, Life allows me my Angels to impact the world and correct the balance."

"I understand it now," Harry breathed against the glass. It all made perfect sense and it irrevocably changed how he saw the world.

Everyone had his or her time, and really no more.

"Do you? I haven't even shown you the real problem yet."

Death snorted but when Harry met his eyes the man wasn't angry and had a patient, understanding look in his eyes.

"With all the deaths after the war with Grindelwald and the first wizarding war against _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ , I simply can't afford to absorb the deaths that will come with the second war. Life will not be able to handle what will happen on her side, either."

Harry gasped as the image changed and he was shown a future in which Voldemort had won. Thousands upon thousands of witches and wizards were slaughtered and with each death more Muggles would be born. However, since Voldemort would have remained unchallenged for all eternity, Wizards would eventually come to dominate and Muggles would be born to only be slaughtered in a vicious cycle that forever gave Death the upper hand.

"On the other hand, if you had never accepted my offer and managed to kill Voldemort according to Dumbledore's ridiculous timeline, the world would only be marginally better off. True, fewer wizards would have died but too many Muggles would still have needed to be born. Voldemort's death wouldn't have changed how some remaining magical people viewed them as inferior and a war between wizards and Muggles would have resulted anyways. Wizards, of course, would have won easily but in the end it would be too similar to the world where Voldemort had won to make that much of a difference. Neither Life nor I can handle a future in which wizards dominate, and for us to be balanced, Muggles and wizards need to be balanced. "

Harry had a tear in his eye as he saw the future that he would have had. Too many people that he knew would have been killed all because Dumbledore left the Horcruxes to him after Severus Snape killed Albus atop the Astronomy Tower in just under a year from now. Knowing what he did in this moment about what the Horcruxes were and where they had been located, it made his stomach lurch at thinking how close he had come to that fate considering how easy it would have been for Dumbledore to have dealt with them himself.

"That bastard!"

"You will have to be more specific, Harry," Death snorted again despite the seriousness of what they were looking at.

Just then, however, the full and true weight of what he was looking at and why he was here hit him.

"Wait, what about now? How am I supposed to fix any of this?"

Harry's face looked terror stricken but Death put his arm around his shoulder and tipped his chin up with his finger.

"Fortunately," Death said slowly and purposefully, "we still have time to correct much of what could go wrong and create another future that is much better off for all involved. Normally, Life would prefer us not to interfere on this level but the consequences are too severe if we don't do that that She is willing to look the other way just this once."

Harry's soon-to-be panic attack was momentarily averted, but he still had no clue as to how he was supposed to deal with any of this. Hadn't this new path that he was on started with wanting righteous justice? How had it ended up where the fate of the world was resting even more heavily on his shoulders now?

"Relax, Harry," Death soothed upon seeing the still frantic look on Harry's face.

"It's bad, but not as bad as it appears. You have plenty of time to ensure that neither of those futures come to pass and you will not have to do this alone."

Death led him back to his seat before taking his own again.

"Mikhail will be assigned to help you with some of the specifics and hopefully by this time next year this will all be behind us until the next time things go south."

Harry's mood improved considerably upon hearing that he didn't have to deal with this alone. He of course ignored the implication that this could or would happen again. However, the momentary relief that washed over him was soon replaced with another existential crisis that he couldn't just sweep under the rug and ignore.

"Death… Sir…?" Harry began and then paused and then began again.

"Death will do just fine," his new boss responded.

"Not that I mean to be disrespectful but isn't it a bit unethical perhaps to affect the lives of others so much even if the end justifies the means. Aren't we taking away free will to an extent?"

As someone who had just realized how manipulated he had been it was something that Harry was perhaps more aware of and sensitive to than most.

"Yes and no, Harry," Death surprised him by agreeing to some extent.

"It's not wrong to wonder if this is how life is supposed to go if everyone has free will. However, while each of those people down there – or rather up here, I'm not entirely sure where _we_ are exactly – is free to make their own choices they do have consequences. And one of those consequences is how they affect Life and myself. Normally I care very little about the everyday events on Earth. I have a Judge that gives people an eternity that matches how someone lived their life. If they were a good person then a definite number of horrible years will translate to a blissful existence until the end of time; evil people get their just rewards as well. Still, I try and only correct for the rather abnormal outliers that severely affect life on Earth and the balance between Life and I. I would argue that I'm allowed to care about things that affect me and do something about it."

"Which brings me to the last thing that we need to discuss. I'm sure Mikhail has at least brought up some of the restrictions you will have to abide by?"

"The rules!" Harry did a combination sigh and nod, a little relieved that he remembered he couldn't actually play god – even if morally wrong actions were sometimes necessary to achieve morally right outcomes. It had just been a bit all-consuming for him to process for a minute.

"It is true that you have a very large task ahead of you but it is also true that you will have some restrictions to prevent you from playing _god_ , as you put it, too much. The first rule is rather simple, Harry, and under no circumstances are you to kill someone before their time."

Death pressed him hard with his obsidian eyes and Harry knew at that moment that he would never, ever break this rule.

"That little hourglass hovering over a person's head? Please make sure that it has run out before you remove the soul from that person's body. The last thing I need is for Life to not collect all She is entitled to or have a person in here demanding that they were judged incorrectly."

Harry shook his head in an agreeing manner while remembering what Mikhail had told him.

"And make sure that I fill out the correct paperwork after, right?"

Death was pleasantly surprised by Harry's statement.

"Remind me to give Mikhail a raise when this is over with."

"Okay," Harry responded; it wasn't like he could say no to the man.

"Now, to answer your question more fully. You also may not directly cause someone to be killed ahead of his or her time. For example, you can't push someone in front of an oncoming train; however, you could leave it to someone else's free will to act on killing that soul."

Harry tilted his head to the side. He didn't understand.

"I really, _really_ want all of Tom Riddle's souls here where they should be. You even had one of them lodged in your skull, right?"

Harry nodded, suddenly understanding where he was going with this on account of his faster processing speed.

"You couldn't remove it directly, however, but you could offer me a place as your Angel. Thus, by me accepting and walking through the Veil, I was the one that really killed him and so Mikhail could take his soul?"

Death beamed at him.

"Exactly!"

"The third rule is that you may not explicitly reveal who or what you really are to a mortal. It will change how they act and thus how they are ultimately judged and if it got out it could really affect a huge number of things. Make sense?"

"Yes."

"The last rule is that you really shouldn't use your position for any personal gain – but in this case both Life and I have agreed that because of how important it is for you to succeed, the pair of us are willing to overlook a few personal scores that you wanted to settle. Nothing too severe but at the same time something to show our appreciation for your efforts. At any rate, I imagine you can think of a way to deal with them at the same time that you take care of Voldemort and Dumbledore."

That actually made Harry feel a lot better, and he would literally be able to have his cake and eat it too without worrying too much about the implications of personally affecting the course of history. Well, more than he was already destined to.

It was a win-win in Harry's mind.

As Harry sat there, absorbing everything he suddenly had another question.

"What happens if and when we finish? Do we really do this for all eternity."

Just then Death leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk, with his hands intertwined and his chin resting on top of them. He peered at Harry intently before answering.

"Most of my Angels retire after different lengths of time in my service. I will tell you right now that I offer a Level Seven to any of them should they so desire; however, and you will no doubt think about this many times in the years to come, but that might not be the place that you want to end up for the rest of time."

"Why wouldn't I want to have that?" Harry pressed, his mind trying to come up with a downside and failing.

"Tell me Harry, would you want to spend an eternity without seeing those whom you loved most again?"

"Oh," Harry mouth suddenly seeing how simple it was.

"You can therefore choose any level you so desire when that time comes. However, I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't also say that should you abuse your position in any significant way, you will be stripped of your powers and judged accordingly."

That sounded exceedingly appropriate to Harry, all things considered.

"I think that is almost everything that I wanted to touch base with you on right now. Do you have any immediate questions for me? I'm sure Mikhail will be able to fill in whatever blanks are left and my door is always open to you; I'm sure Kathy can find a way to squeeze you in too if something major comes up."

Harry did have an immediate question; he didn't think he would be able to wait on this any longer. Not after his thoughts in the elevator and with what he had just heard about selecting the level that he could remain in for all time.

"Do you know where my parents are? Where Sirius is? Could I see them?"

Death kept resting his chin upon his hands and his eyes searched Harry more intensely than they ever had. After about a minute he leaned back and gave Harry a very direct answer.

"I know where they are and in time you will too, but I would recommend against trying to see them until you have been here for a while. With time, your mind will be better able to cope with the true nature of what it is you ask and be able to decide the many pros versus the unbearable cons. I'm afraid that I can't explain it better than that; some things are just too complex to be put into words before you are ready to truly understand them, even for me."

Harry could only nod his head forward; he didn't entirely know how to respond to that after having just witnessed the birth of creation.

"It'll make more sense later; but for now I'm sure Mikhail will get you settled in properly. Oh, and tell him to schedule his new assignments with Kathy as well. I have high hopes for the two of you!"

Death's grin continued to widen.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry; it isn't often that I have an Angel deal with something that affected them so personally. For what it is worth I find it very appropriate."

With that Death stood to walk him out.

Given all the serious issues they had talked about Harry wasn't as swayed by the man's beauty. It hardly registered how close Death was standing to him now or that the man's hand was resting upon his shoulder.

Harry had other things on his mind and to be honest was just looking forward to seeing Mikhail again. Whatever happened in the future at least he had some comfort in knowing that for the first time he didn't have to face it alone. That meant more to him than anything.

Before leaving, however, Harry thanked Death for his time and promised to keep the man updated on his progress. Then he walked out of Death's office and, true to his word, there was Mikhail waiting for him.

Things were already looking up.

* * *

 **This took longer to write than I want to admit and I went back and forth A LOT. I think it is a good mix of telling you some things, leaving some things for the future, and letting your own imagination fill in the rest.**

 **Hope you enjoyed it and I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts.**


	4. Employee Orientation

**Author's Note:**

Hello again. 2018 was evidently not the year that I had hoped it would be for my writing. But I enjoy doing this too much to stay away from it that long – even if life made this past year obnoxiously difficult to try and make time. Hope that you enjoy this chapter and continue to enjoy where I take this. But I do want to thank you all very much for just reading anything I wrote.

This chapter explores more of the other side and finishes some of the background that I feel I need to introduce before the story picks up in the next chapter.

Also, does anyone want to be a Beta for me? Mainly looking to bounce ideas off of and make sure things are coherent before I post.

 **Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.**

* * *

The ornate, wooden door to Death's office closed behind him as Harry walked over to where Mikhail stood patiently in front of Kathy's desk. Both the older Angel and Death's office manager had a similar, wistful look on each of their faces – like they too still remembered their first encounter with the man.

The evidence of which was still plastered all over Harry's face and also in the way that he continued to awkwardly walk towards Mikhail.

"That bad, huh?" Mikhail smirked.

Though he did have an understanding look in his eyes and extended his arm to rest on Harry's shoulder.

"I'll admit," Mikhail continued in a more pensive manner, "it was a bit overwhelming for me as well. For all of us really, I imagine. But he isn't too bad, great boss to be honest."

Harry had heard the words but they hadn't really registered.

Nevertheless, his eyes blinked and he started to come back to the conversation. Little-by-little his encounter with Death was becoming more and more like a dream.

"Definitely still a bit shell shocked," teased Mikhail.

Harry took a deep breath and looked into Mikhail's yes.

"I never imagined that I would have gotten to see all of that – to watch as the world formed and life as we know it came to me. The beginning… it's almost more than I can process or even wrap my head around."

Mikhail nodded and squeezed down comfortingly on Harry's shoulder, drawing the younger and shorter Angel closer to him. Mikhail's head was tilted slightly downwards and to the side and his eyes were now only inches away from Harry's.

"Yeah, I don't think that you'll ever really be able to get over _that_ feeling of grandeur or amazement. But the rest," Mikhail raised his eyebrows and his cheeks smiled warmly, "isn't all that bad, all things considered. You'll get used to your purpose in time and the rest just sort of falls into place."

The hints of gold in Harry's green eyes reflected the closeness of Mikhail's face.

"Speaking of which!" Mikhail blurted out and the sudden rush of his outgoing breath brushed up against Harry's cheeks, "I'm sure that Death gave you an overview of your upcoming assignment, right?"

Harry nodded his head at the continuing reminder that there was very serious and important business to attend to.

Meanwhile, a small part of his mind lamented that he couldn't more fully appreciate the closeness of the other boy. Something was always happening or going on in his life where it had become almost impossible for him to just enjoy a single moment without the weight of a thousand others trying to barge in. For instance, he had rarely been allowed to just exist and explore in the momentary comforts, exactly the sort that came with being so _close_ to a certain individual that he happened to find very appealing.

Though, that same part of Harry's mind quickly reminded him that there were bound to be some moments in the near future where he could more fully explore his newfound attraction to the other boy considering that Mikhail had been assigned by Death to help him with his task.

Mikhail wasn't prepared for the sudden appearance of the large and enigmatic smile on Harry's face, however.

It caused him to momentarily lose focus, but he managed to regain his composure in the next instant.

"Perfect," Mikhail recovered with a curious expression of his own lingering on his face.

"Well, Kathy here manages the various assignments that Death gives his Angels and she will be your point person for status updates and the like. For example, she will now provide you with your very own ledger."

With that Mikhail tore his eyes away from Harry and directed his attention to Kathy's meticulously organized desk.

"This will be just like my book, the one that I had when we first met in the In-Between and it'll provide you with updates on your various tasks and whatnot to make sure you have most things needed to perform the job. Or at the very least some idea as to where to start."

Kathy greeted Harry's sudden attentiveness with a small but distinctly devilish smile.

The woman's eyes were alight with mirth and she could barely contain the excitement building behind her smile.

"Of course, Harry," she purred, "I have Death's assignment right here for you."

Without taking her focus off of Harry she rummaged under her desk and produced a large, nearly identical tome that Mikhail had used to dive into Harry's past.

Kathy's eyes were still shinning gleefully as she set the book down in front of Harry only to next lay down an identical one in front of Mikhail a fraction of a second later.

Her eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets now.

"Death seems to have scheduled both of you on the same case!" she squealed in delight.

"It looks like the two of you will be spending an _awfully_ large amount of the foreseeable future together. And considering the assignment before you, I would imagine that there are going to be a lot of late nights and close contact."

Kathy's eyebrows danced again and her pointed stare caused Mikhail's cheeks to take on a reddening hue. Harry, meanwhile, remained mostly unaware of the not-so-subtle innuendo being implied towards the pair of them. In fact, Harry had always been rather behind the curve in picking up on these sorts of things and sometimes needed them to be quite literally spelled out.

Case-in-point, he was too busy thinking about explaining Death's reasoning to Mikhail to even notice some of the telling color beginning to leave the boy's cheeks.

"I'm relieved, really," Harry now finally clarifying the cause of his earlier smile, "Death said that since this mission was so important to the cosmic balance, he would prefer that I didn't handle this all by myself. You know, to make sure that everything goes smoothly."

Harry beamed at Mikhail, looking forward to both having the help and getting the chance to know the other Angel better.

"Isn't it just Splendid!" Kathy clapped her hands together. Her fuchsia nail polish sparkled as the ends of her fingers caught the overhead light.

Mikhail, who was equal parts stunned and ecstatic about the opportunity, just nodded his head and tried to keep a smile on his face. Because while he was truly looking forward to spending more time with Harry he was terrified that this could cause problems.

Harry was just the sort of person that he had been waiting for all of these years and a rather large part of him was entirely too fixated in worrying that Harry wouldn't return his growing affections. As the day had progressed he had hoped that they would be able to take things slowly and gradually work their way up to something, should that be an option down the road. Which would only make the hours and hours that they would have to spend in each other's company that much harder – especially in this line of work.

The magic, the death, the sheer power of what they could harness, day in and day out, could sometimes alter the choices a person made. Merlin knew that he had acted in an uncharacteristic manner once or twice because of the rush that had been surging through his veins only seconds before.

He didn't want that to happen with Harry and he could feel himself getting sucked into this deeper and deeper well of continually overthinking the situation until he didn't know what to think anymore. He was just about to lose himself down that dark little rabbit hole when he managed to catch a glimpse of Kathy's face staring directly at him.

She was leaning forward in her chair and her chin was propped up with the palms of her hands that were themselves supported by her elbows that rested on her desk. Her manicured hands framed her round face that was simply having too much fun giving a piercing and knowing stare at Mikhail.

She was in heaven.

Mikhail cleared his throat that signaled his return to the present.

Kathy chose that same moment to insert herself into the conversation once more and save Mikhail from the awkwardness that was coming off of the poor boy in waves.

"I'm sure that Mikhail will walk you through everything that you need to know about how to use your book; now, here is your employee identification card. Don't lose this, you hear? This will let you into all of the regular and _restricted_ areas here and we can't have just anybody getting access to that. Again, I'm sure that Mikhail will provide a more than adequate overview."

Harry was barely prepared to process this barrage of new information again so quickly after everything he had learned from Death, but did his best to force himself to pay attention as Kathy continued.

"Your ID also gets you on the employee meal plan in the cafeteria and can be used in the Land of the Living just like a Muggle credit card. Mikhail will explain the process for reimbursement for meals, housing, and resources needed for the mission. Let's see, what else?" She tapped her chin expectantly and handed Harry the card that had a large, moving picture of himself on it.

Except that this Harry staring back at him on the ID was nothing like the Harry that he was used to seeing in the mirror. All of his features appeared to be the same but at the same time looked enhanced as if they had been brought out to their full potential. In fact, Harry was having almost the same reaction looking at himself now that he had upon meeting Mikhail.

He certainly never remembered looking like _this_.

Focusing on just one feature wasn't enough to change the overall impression but considering them all at the same time was enough to make him blink several times in rapid succession.

"Oh that's right," Kathy interrupted, "it'll also give you access to the supply cabinet. By the way, I've made an appointment for you to get fitted for your scythe in one hour."

"Uh, great… thanks," Harry stammered without looking up from his newfound appearance.

It took some effort but he eventually managed to smile back and convey his gratitude.

"Yes, thanks, Kath," Mikhail added.

"Will give us just enough time to grab a bite to eat and go over the basics of the book. I owe you one."

Harry gathered his new belongings while Kathy looked pointedly between Mikhail and the oblivious Harry.

"I can think of a way you can pay me back."

Her smile looked predatory and her eyes danced back and forth between Harry, who wasn't paying attention, and Mikhail who knew exactly the sort of sordid little details that the woman was after.

Mikhail smiled embarrassedly at her and showed Harry the way to the cafeteria.

On the way there he began to describe the book that Harry was closely examining the cover of.

"Your book is not all knowing Harry and it can't tell you everything since who has time to read every little detail about a person. It will, however, provide just enough to fill you in on the relevant parts of your assignment, who the major players are and some of the noted difficulties. Very helpful in getting you started, though, and you can always request further information if needed. Why don't you open it?"

Harry slowed his pace but kept walking side-by-side Mikhail as he grabbed the intricately designed cover and turned it over.

On the first page he saw a table of contents that listed the various individuals who had wronged him over the years and noted on which pages he could find more information on them.

Since Albus Dumbledore was the first name that he saw he quickly flipped over to page number eighteen.

There was a large picture of the old wizard on the left and to the right and underneath were some very interesting highlights that caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

 **Name:** Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

 **Race:** Human Wizard

 **Current Status:** Alive

 **Date of Birth:** August 12th, 1881

 **Anticipated Date of Death:** June 30, 1997

 **Anticipated Cause of Death:** Killing Curse from Severus Snape

 **Anticipated Location of Death:** Astronomy Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

 **Known For:** current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, former Transfiguration Professor, former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, defeat of the Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald, magical prodigy and student of Alchemy, discovered twelve uses of dragon blood, former possessor of 2 Deathly Hallows (Elder Wand and Cloak of Invisibility)

 **Known Associates:** Lord Voldemort (former student, mortal enemy), Harry James Potter (former student, former Boy Who Lived, current Angel of Death), Ariana Dumbledore (sister, deceased), Aberforth Dumbledore (brother, alive), Gellert Grindelwald (lover, estranged), Severus Snape (former student, Hogwarts' faculty member, and Order of The Phoenix spy)

 **Angel Assigned to Case:** Harry James Potter

 **Assignment:** Reverse significant damage done to Life/Death balance on account of gross negligence re: Tom Marvolo Riddle (AKA Lord Voldemort/Dark Lord) and his creation of Horcruxes

 **Difficulties:** Genius level intellect and will sacrifice anything for the greater good (or what he believes the greater good to be)

 **Notes:** Soon to be infected with the Curiosity Killed the Cat Curse (soon-to-be possessor of Resurrection Stone), greatest weakness is power

"Dumbledore went out with Grindelwald!" Harry's mouth gaped open.

"This can't be right."

Mikhail didn't even need to look at the page. Not because he knew that the book never lied but because he had previously needed to deal with some of Grindelwald's mess personally and thus was intimately familiar with some of the events in the boy's youth.

"Oh it's true all right! The two became very close for a few short years around the time of graduating from their respective schools of magic. Now that I think about it I would imagine that we will have to revisit some of the circumstances surrounding what brought them together since it probably relates to some of the things that we have to fix going forward. But I'm getting ahead of myself."

Harry looked up from the page and focused his still-gaped expression on Mikhail.

"You think?" was all Harry could say; he honestly thought all of the major surprises would have been over after his conversation with Death and everything.

Mikhail shook his head and put his arm around Harry's back and pushed him forward.

"I know that it is a lot to take in and more so for you than what most Angels have to go through. It really is very unusual for the first assignment – or any assignment, come to think of it – that an Angel is involved with to be something with such a strong personal connection to. Normally we Angels deal with things far removed from any semblance of the life that we used to live, but in your case you are being sent straight back towards the very people that caused you so much pain in the first place."

Mikhail's voice became lower as he led them into some open and unused space right outside the cafeteria.

"I should have seen this coming," he apologized.

If he hadn't of spent so much time being distracted by Harry's beauty and his own internal longing he might have been able to do a better job of preparing the new Angel for the realities of his job. He needed to do better; he was going to do better.

He took a minute to gather himself and reconsidered how the rest of the day should go.

"Maybe we should take a break from thinking about what's ahead and focus on some of the easier and far less complicated dealings of being an Angel with some food. From their we can get you fitted for your Scythe and then depending on how you are feeling we can either stop down in Level One after I explain what it will entail or return to the mortal world and come back to interrogate Voldemort's soul tomorrow. I keep forgetting how real and personal this is or must be for you and I don't want to make that mistake again."

There was sincerity in Mikhail's eyes and Harry was thankful for that. He was just starting to really wrap his mind around what he had gotten himself into when he stopped and decided that Mikhail's suggestion of food was both needed and necessary.

"Now that you mention it I am kind of hungry," Harry replied.

"And you don't have to apologize, it's sort of becoming expected to find myself in these sorts of unexpected situations. Sometimes I'm really bad at not thinking things through all the way through."

"So I read," Mikhail lightly teased before leading Harry properly into the cafeteria.

At once the smell of food hit his nostrils, only while it certainly satisfied his current hunger it did not compare to the feasts at Hogwarts that smelled a lot more appetizing.

Harry followed Mikhail to the buffet line as he made note of what people were eating at the tables that they passed. However, what truly captivated him was that every single person looked to be savoring each and every bite.

Harry held onto his comments as they collected their food and sat down at an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. Harry eyed Mikhail intently as he twirled some spaghetti around his fork and placed it in his mouth, and noticed that his reaction was not the same as the others.

Harry soon unfurled his own utensils and soon tasted something very bland and non-memorable. A few bites later and he decided to finally comment on it.

"Is it just me or does everyone else seem to be enjoying their food more than what is normal?"

Mikhail looked up from his plate and saw that Harry was genuinely confused about this.

"Well, I did mention that these were all people from Level Four and were working here to try and get an honorable mention transfer into Level Five, and the food here _is_ from Level Five."

"You mean this _is_ good food?" Harry asked before realizing that he would have been very happy eating something like this at the Dursleys. Which then caused his mind to fully consider the situation.

"Never mind, I can see that the quality of the food that one receives is tied to the level that a person ends up."

Mikhail swallowed his last remaining bit of pasta.

"To be fair, I've never had any of the food in Level Four but I bet it gives these people a taste of what being good at their jobs will get them."

"So do you eat all of your meals here then?" Harry asked before returning to his plate with a new sense enthusiasm and gratitude.

"I eat here when it is convenient," Mikhail said. "Of course, I much prefer cooking my own food when I can but it's not always the easiest considering the odd hours that we sometimes have to work."

Harry continued to eat while Mikhail talked about the flat he had in the mortal world, though he did mention there were accommodations here as well that they could use.

It was a nice change of pace and gave Harry a much-needed respite from anything too serious.

When Harry was finished Mikhail took both of their trays and placed them on the belt that carried them back into the kitchen to be cleaned and reused. Then he led Harry out of the cafeteria and across another large space filled with cubicles before coming to a door that was marked 'restricted access.'

Mikhail showed Harry how to swipe his badge and after walking through the door directed Harry through a short hallway with doors spaced out every few meters or so. They turned left at the end of the hall and went through the first door on the right.

Immediately Harry was reminded of Ollivanders and in fact the room was similarly laid out. Various scythes were stored around the room, and it was easy to see by how they were arranged that some were larger and others were much shorter. Not only that but the blades differed as well with some being a single curve and others being more intricately dangerous-looking.

And just like the involved process of selecting his wand Harry thought that at one point he had held every single scythe in the room. The attendant was a lot more flustered than Ollivander had been but with only a few more to try Harry's magic finally connected with one of them.

Only, it didn't just connect with the strong but incredibly light handle and blade, it was more like they bonded together. It was such a strong sense of belonging and rightness that Harry honestly questioned how he had even managed to live without it.

Harry's green eyes sparkled with pure and unadulterated contentment and Mikhail couldn't help but smile and think back to when he first received his own reaper of souls.

There really was no good way to put how this experience felt into words but as the two Angels left the store they shared a look that managed to do just that.

The feeling carried both of them as they walked back into the main workspace and towards the elevators. Only, just as they were a few feet away Mikhail stopped and turned to Harry.

"So here is where you have a choice. First I will explain to you what we are going to do and then you can decide whether you feel up to tackling it now or returning to the mortal world before coming back tomorrow."

Some of the shine retreated from Harry's eyes as he did his best to calm his mind and prepare himself for Mikhail's attempt to provide more of the specifics so that he had a better idea of what to expect.

"Shoot."

"As I explained earlier, while the book is very helpful in providing a framework for the issues it doesn't necessarily provide a great deal of context as to who a person is – which can be very important in these cases when trying to counteract the damage they have down. And while we are on the subject I want to mention that the information provided in your book is the same information that you would receive upon looking at a person but there is one very important distinction. You can only receive that knowledge mentally from a person if the individual is deceased, which basically means that you are on this side of the divide and looking at their soul."

"However," and with this he slowed his speech as a point of emphasis, "situations like the one we currently find ourselves in come with exceptions and therefore Life provides for us the information about those that are still living, like Dumbledore, that will be of great importance in deciding how to fully deal with something. Now normally when we are reaping magical souls we don't have an immediate need for this information since the deed is simple but it will appear in your book because you will need it for filing the paperwork and making sure all the i's are dotted and all the t's are crossed."

"Do you understand me so far," Mikhail inquired.

Harry was following quite closely and nodded his head.

"Good. The final thing to note then before I explain where I am going with this is that there is a blank page in the back of your book that you can use as a search in case there are any deceased individuals that you think could provide relevant information for you to investigate further that haven't already been provided. If the name you enter is from a person still alive then you will have to provide a justification for Life to authorize the release of that information, and even then that doesn't mean you will get it."

"Still with you," Harry interjected when he saw Mikhail pause again.

"The purpose of laying this all out then is that in order to gather more information than the book provides we have one final tool at our disposal, which is to directly interact with the souls of the deceased."

Mikhail was watching Harry's face intently.

"This allows us to see what they saw and to know what they knew, and thus provides some context for what they did and why they did it."

Going into a conversation more mentally prepared had allowed his mind not only a chance to follow this discussion but to be able to anticipate where it was that Mikhail was going. Of course, it also helped that the Horcrux was no longer taking up a portion of his mental resources and so Harry was able to fully apply himself in this moment.

"So what you are saying and trying to prepare me for is that even though we have information in this book on what Voldemort did up until his soul fractured the night that he killed my parents, we could visit that portion of his soul and immerse ourselves more fully in what he did and why he did them?"

"Which means," Harry swallowed, "that we would have to go to Level One and find him. Isn't that right?"

Mikhail nodded slowly.

"It isn't the most pleasant of places, obviously, and after what happened earlier I wanted to make sure that you were fully informed this time as to what we were getting ourselves into. We can always come back tomorrow and do this but at some point we are going to have to go down there."

Even though that experience wasn't something that Harry was looking forward to, he didn't see the point in delaying it until later. By this point it had been an extremely long day and he just wanted to put this next experience behind him so that he could finally begin to adjust to his new life.

"No," Harry shook his head, "let's get this over with now."

"Are you sure Harry?"

"I'd rather not have this hanging over my head, and since we are here anyways…" he shrugged his shoulders.

"Best to get on with it then," Mikhail finished in agreement.

"Very well," the older Angel continued and led them over to the elevator.

"Now, the first thing to know about visiting any of the different levels is that while we are in this form," he indicated with a back and forth gesture of his hand, "we will remain unseen. If, however, we were to transform into our true forms as an Angel of Death – you know, the one with the wings and everything – then the souls will be able to see us and at that point we will be able to enter into them to see and know what we need to."

Mikhail saw the question begin to form on Harry's face and answered it before Harry even opened his mouth to ask.

"For the most part Death would prefer us to remain as inconspicuous as possible when in the various levels and not to disturb the souls unless we have a really good reason to – I think our presence makes them nervous and can affect the rest of their existence."

But that was not the question that Harry was going to ask, though that did answer something he would eventually have questions about.

"And what about interacting with the various people here?" Harry motioned towards the rows and rows of cubicles that surrounded them in a semi circle of sorts.

"Ah," Mikhail nodded with understanding. "Here is different because these souls are working for Death and therefore have been allowed to interact with us in a more comfortable setting. Again, our true form can make them nervous but I suspect the real reason is because Death prefers to not assume his true form unless he has a really good reason for it."

Mikhail glanced around their surroundings for a minute and then whispered conspiratorially to Harry, "if you think our true forms are different than how we are dressed now, just imagine what it would be like for Death. My knees gave out the first I saw him, like really saw him."

Harry's eyes widened minutely as he tried to imagine Death looking any more intimidating than his first experience with the man.

"I'll make sure I'm sitting down then," Harry quipped with an uncertain smile.

"That would be most wise," agreed Mikhail.

Just then the elevator beeped and the door opened. After they stepped in Mikhail pushed the button for Level One.

"So the plan is to find where Tom Riddle's soul is and then transform. From there we will dive into his mind and get a better understanding of what made the man tick. After that we can return to the mortal world and begin to plan for how we are going to return balance to the world."

Harry nodded and steeled himself as the elevator descended and they approached their destination. He wasn't exactly ready for this but at the same time he didn't think he would ever be ready. Plus, he kept telling himself that getting this out of the way would save him the bother of dealing with the effects of thinking about it too much. Dreaded anticipation was a thing and Harry hated it.

So he was doing himself a favor really, and it was that thought that he held onto when the door opened and they stepped out into Level One.

Everything about this place was unpleasant and visceral; the screams, the torture, the smell, it actually made him feel pity for a brief moment for those subjected to endure their punishment for all eternity. However, he had been gradually coming to terms with everything that led to this moment and his next thoughts were that people were only ever committed to this fate because they had earned it.

They had done this to themselves, no matter the reasons. Which made the forced starvation for this person or the continuous and never-ending labor under the hot sun for that person a lot easier to stomach.

And Harry quickly came to realize that what most people were subjected to forever had a huge psychological component.

For instance the man to their immediate right as they walked forward on the path that led off to many separate forms of hell for a specific individual was emaciated as he sat in front of this sumptuous feast in front of him. Except that he was alternating between sobbing into his hands and using them to try and grab as much food as possible. Only, whenever he managed to bring something close to his mouth it disappeared just as he was about to place his lips around it.

The information that downloaded into his mind from looking at the thin man told him his name and that the reason he was being subjected to this specific form of punishment was that he had withheld food from his servants every winter and watched them starve to death while he had feasted in front of them.

Thus, his punishment was to continually starve to death – only that whenever he died from a lack of nutrients his body would revert to the overweight form it had been in when he had died and the cycle would start all over again. Without end.

The information flitting through Harry's mind also made it clear that there was no option for parole in this case.

It soon got to the point that Harry did his best not to look directly at anyone down there and instead he focused on the ground at his feet, a strategy that nearly all Angels, including Mikhail, employed when they came down here.

But since it was his first time, Mikhail reached out to grab Harry's hand and squeezed. Harry immediately squeezed back and appreciated the comfort and the forewarning he had received before coming down here.

He was very glad that he had not put this off because he was looking forward to putting this behind him as quickly as possible and only returning when it was absolutely necessary.

They continued on for a little while before Mikhail led them to their destination, which was a chamber that looked like any other. Except that when Harry glanced upwards and into this personalized hell he saw what had to be a younger version of the Tom Riddle that had come from the diary back in his second year.

It struck Harry as odd how normal the scene in front of him was until he began to really immerse himself in what this form of Voldemort's punishment was.

The information that soon began to transfer into his mind as he continued to watch it helped him to understand that while on the outside this seemed rather subtle and more lenient than anything else he had seen or heard since being down here, it was the perfect torment for someone like Tom as it slowly broke him.

For every day, Tom would reawake in the orphanage from a dream of what his life would have been like at Hogwarts, what it _had_ been like in Hogwarts and beyond. He would awake knowing how much better and superior to everyone else he was supposed to be, only he would come to find that throughout the day he had no recourse for the bullying he endured from the other children. He had no magic to save him and his mind was not what it had been like in the dream either. And everyday Tom would slowly realize that he was pathetically average and dull and nothing about him stood out. Each day would end like the one before as Tom's world became a lifeless grey that soon wasn't worth living.

As it was, they were able to witness just how broken and dejected Tom became. While Harry would have imagined the man being tortured for all time, he found that after several minutes of quite contemplation that there was no greater punishment for Tom than not being able to access any of the exceptional talents that he relied on; that made him what he was or knew what he could be.

To witness Tom lose the will to live or fear what his life would be like without his magic and intelligence was satisfying to Harry, even if a small part of him wished to see him being tortured just like he had done to so many others. That knowledge of what awaited Tom for the countless years ahead caused Harry to understand that each of these individual hells were tailored solely and specifically to the people experiencing them.

Harry then turned over his shoulder to glance backwards at where the starving man was and inferred that he had treasured excess and waste while others went without and had subsequently lorded that over others.

What his mind smartly and rightly connected then was that knowing what a person suffered through here in this place gave him fundamental knowledge about that person.

It further helped prepare him for what was to come as he glanced at Mikhail now.

"So how do we get inside? How do I transform?"

"Not only do you have to think about your wings coming out but you want to picture the Scythe in your hand and desire to serve Death. You want to channel _him_ and his power and unleash that on the world."

Mikhail's face was serious and a split-second later Harry had needed to shield his eyes because Mikhail had morphed into his true and mighty form. Harry was speechless for a moment, both because of the spectacle in front of him and because some part of him couldn't imagine ever being equal to the powerful and sinfully handsome instrument of Death in front of him.

Mikhail raised his eyebrow expectantly and Harry closed his eyes and focused everything on what the man had said.

He struggled for a minute before his mind caught hold of a hidden power inside of his core. It was green and black and brimming with a force of infinite potential. For a moment he was apprehensive about unleashing it but in the next moment he saw it burst and explode outwards.

Harry gasped as the change went through him and when he opened his eyes his skin hummed with a strength that he had never felt before; it was intoxicating and positively the best feeling that Harry had ever experienced.

When he tilted his head to the side he saw that Mikhail's mouth was parted and that his eyes were busy searching over his body. It took Harry little time to realize that he was dressed exactly as the warrior in front of him and he stretched his wings to their maximum width because it became hard for him to simply stand still.

His body was literally itching to move and there was a hunger in his eyes.

"Wow!" Mikhail breathed softly next to him.

Harry's attention returned to the Angel next to him and this time it was Harry with an eager look on his face.

Mikhail took a difficult swallow.

"Now, all we have to do is approach Tom and touch him. At once we will connect with everything that he is and experience his life in a way similar to watching a memory. It's not the easiest to explain but soon you will understand."

With that Mikhail tore his eyes away from Harry and walked into the room where a depressed and utterly wrecked Tom laid with lifeless eyes that no longer treasured being in this once-exceptional form.

Harry followed him and quickly repeated the other Angel's motion that led his finger to connect with Tom's head and his mind was instantly transported to a place where he soon came to understand Tom Riddle better than anyone ever had.

Harry brought the steaming cup of tea up to his mouth and welcomed the warmth that spread through his center upon swallowing the hot liquid. It was soothing and exactly what he needed after that much exposure to the inner workings of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

* * *

It had been about as bad as Harry expected it to be and he was having trouble processing all of the terribleness that he had seen over the course of the man's life. However, he was absolutely positive that it had not only been the right decision but that it would also be indispensible knowledge for them to have moving forward. Having insight into why Tom acted the way that he had would be so useful in dealing with the man still out there that Mikhail had already mentioned several ways that they would be able to use it before they had even Shadow Traveled to the mortal world.

And as Harry sat there in a Muggle pub, sipping his Earl Grey, he couldn't help but agree with what Mikhail had said.

Even though they had come here to eat a large dinner and relax after that sojourn into the Dark Lord's mind, Harry couldn't help but relive some of what he had recently learned. Thankfully, Mikhail was not letting there be much quite time and literally forced Harry into a conversation about topics that had absolutely nothing to do with magic and death.

It had struck Harry as odd given what they had just done but the more time that passed as they ate their meal and talked about meaningless topics the more Harry came to understand that it was essential to separate some of the darker aspects of being an Angel of Death, if only for his sanity.

It also helped that he had spent a great deal of time as the Boy Who Lived doing just that, especially after being forced to deal with Umbridge this past year and having to compartmentalize reality in order to just make it through her class. Or just living his life.

By the time the waiter had brought treacle tart, Harry was doing much better than he had upon leaving the Land of the Dead. It allowed them to have a conversation about their immediate future. The most important thing was to return Harry to Privet Drive and then the next day they would begin to put a plan together for the coming year in earnest.

Harry was not looking forward to saying goodbye to the other Angel for the night and was apprehensive as the man said his goodbyes and disappeared into the shadows leaving Harry to stand there alone in the park near the Dursley's house. Only, now that he was alone for the first time since transitioning to a new existence he became aware of just how significant the change within him had been. A change that, in this moment, had nothing to do with the awesome new powers and responsibilities that he had been granted with.

For the first time he felt powerful and ready for the path ahead. Hell, he had come face to face with Death and now had some portion of that very same power flowing through his veins. He was changed but in a way that stood in stark contrast to the broken and beaten boy who had just returned from Hogwarts the previous day.

So much had happened in such a short amount of time that Harry felt like a new person as he walked through the front door. He suddenly felt like years had passed since the last time he was here. It was almost foreign to him as he glanced up the stairs and didn't have the urge to immediately sneak upstairs without being seen. Instead he decided that he wanted another cup of tea and proceeded into the kitchen to do just that.

Only, Vernon who was sitting in his oversized chair that hold his oversized bottom was clearly disapproving that Harry thought he could do as he pleased in his house.

"Boy!" he barked, causing Petunia and Dudley to glance up from their show.

"Boy, get in here this instant! I will not have you coming and going at all hours of the night!" he shouted.

"Hang on; I'm fixing myself a cup of tea."

The casual and almost bored voice that Harry had used did not sit well with the man. The house shook briefly as the man got to his feet and thundered into the kitchen.

"Now you listen to me, boy," the man threatened by jabbing his sausage-like fingers in Harry's direction.

His eyes widened in rage when Harry continued to ignore the man and simply focused on pouring the recently boiled water into his teacup instead.

"Did you suddenly become deaf?"

Vernon's raised voice caused an agitated Petunia to trod into the kitchen.

Her cheeks were flushed and she glared at Harry for daring to cause such a scene that the neighbors might hear.

"Answer me, boy!" Vernon raged.

His face had now taken on a purple hue and the large vein on his forehead pulsed with every heartbeat.

Harry finished pouring the water and returned the kettle to the stove. He next began to steep his teabag and took a seat where Vernon normally sat.

"No," he said simply as he drew the cup near his lips to savor the smell.

Vernon looked like a car had hit him.

"What do you mean, _no_? You sorry, no-good freak."

But Harry just continued to stare at the man in an easy and unthreatened manner.

"I said no, meaning I am not going to answer you. I don't have to answer you and will never have to answer to you ever again."

For a moment Harry thought the man was going to have a stroke, but it was Petunia that Harry's words had affected the most.

"You ungrateful little child. How dare you talk to us after all we have done for you!"

Harry's amused smirk while sipping his cup pushed them further over the edge.

"That's it, boy. I'm going to beat you so hard you'll never smile again."

Vernon began to thunder around the table before stopping dead in his tracks.

There was a spark of something terrifying and inhuman in Harry's eyes and Vernon felt a chill work through his insides.

For the first time Harry felt completely natural and in control and even he was mildly caught off guard with his new behavior.

But he supposed that a person couldn't go through what he just had and not be irrevocably changed. Besides, the task in front of Harry would be far more difficult and challenging than simply trying to enjoy a cup of tea in peace.

It had been all too easy for a small and miniscule amount of his new power to flash through his eyes and give him the continued confidence with his new attitude.

"You know, I've always wondered how any rational and intelligent person would make it a point to continually and repeatedly abuse and antagonize someone they knew could perform magic when they themselves could not. Even though you think I might not be able to perform magic outside of school until I graduate, what reason did you think would limit me from doing something when I was finished with Hogwarts?"

Harry paused to sip down more of his quickly cooling beverage.

"It would seem to me that you are either confidant that I would never do such a thing or that you lack the foresight to think your actions through in what effect they will have. You must then think I am either a person with unlimited patience and understanding or you think I'm a coward, _or_ you are an idiot."

That unnatural power danced in Harry's eyes once more.

"In any case, you are wrong about all of them and I would strongly… _encourage_ … you to think through your actions from now on."

Harry set down the empty teacup and stared down Vernon before looking over to Petunia where Dudley's large shape failed to hide behind his mother's bony frame.

It wasn't that Harry cared about them, because he didn't after how they had treated him all these years but he couldn't exactly walk away from them knowing what he knew. Chalking it up to the part of his mother that resided in him he gave them some parting advice as he stood up from the table.

"Not that I care about what happens to any of you but you really should think before you act about the type of person that you want to be _remembered_ as because I for one am not going to be walked over anymore or intimidated by the likes of you. Do with that bit of advice as you will."

His voice was strong and distant, but not entirely cold since he wasn't the sort of person that wished misfortune on anyone. He had always believed that a person was responsible for his or her own actions but now he had a greater appreciation for knowing that they were also responsible for whatever consequences those actions brought.

He wasn't exactly leaking them inside information about his knowledge of their future but he wanted it to be clear that their abuse of him ended this very moment.

Harry didn't even look back to see their faces as he left the kitchen and headed upstairs to the smallest bedroom and went to sleep. And his comfortable and restful visions were filled with the attractive person that he would meet with the next day.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Next chapter speeds time up just a bit. I would rather Mikhail and Harry work through their plans in the background and jump right into executing them so that this trainwreck off a fic can get down to business.**

 **Also, I guess happy holidays are in order.**


	5. The Ministry

**Author's Note:**

Hello there. Like I said at the end of the last chapter, I would rather get right into the plot and so we should all pretend that Harry and Mikhail spent a month (which I will acknowledge but not devote more time than I feel is necessary) coming up with a plan and it would spoil the reveal if you knew about it ahead of time.

Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean that it will go off without a hitch or that they won't encounter some hiccups along the way.

To clarify: I'm treating this whole story as if Harry saw the future that he would have lived and had that information (as if he had lived it).

As always, thanks for reading. Hope it entertains you a little.

 **Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.**

* * *

Not even a week later and Harry took his first soul.

It began like any other night, with Harry and Mikhail both sitting on the floor of Harry's room in an empty house on Privet Drive. The Dursley's had thankfully decided that they needed a few weeks away.

Harry's new behavior might have had something to do with it.

The two Angels were alternating between researching information from their ledgers, talking about what Harry remembered the future to be in as much detail as possible, and then slowly beginning to piece together their plan to deal with both Voldemort and Dumbledore.

Suddenly, Harry's Book of Death began to glow and Harry instinctually flipped through the pages until the book warmed and the page felt right in his hands.

A part of Harry's mind had been dreading this moment since he knew that there was no escaping it. For no matter how much gratitude and respect he had for the woman who had ensured him a fair trial for the Dementor fiasco, deep down he knew her death could not be prevented. There just simply had not been enough time to try and save her.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he turned to look at Mikhail.

"Come on," Harry shared a disappointed look with the older Angel. "Let's get this over with."

In the next moment they both transformed into their true forms as Angels of Death and shadow traveled to Amelia Bones' house. While they were visible to souls in the Land of the Dead in this form, in the Land of the Living they remained invisible to those that were not dead or dying.

They appeared just in time to see Voldemort materialize in her living room.

" _Amelia_ ," the Dark Lord purred.

He flicked his wand and a bright purple light shot at the wide-eyed woman sitting before him.

Harry thought that her death would be quick but the witch surprised him with ingenuity as she deflected Voldemort's curse with a wandlessly summoned cushion. The explosion of feathers in all directions allowed her enough time to grab her wand and roll off the couch where she shot off several stunners.

The Dark Lord dealt with those easily and returned a volley of conjured knives that careened towards the woman.

Amelia jumped to her knees all the while extending her arm outwards in a great circle that caused each knife to transform into a bird as they passed the line she had drawn before her.

Showing a great deal of agility Amelia wasted no time in rolling to the side and sending her couch flying straight towards her attacker.

But no matter how much Harry wanted the woman to succeed the hourglass above head had run out of sand and her time had come.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw it, and while Amelia devoted her next spells to burn the snakes that flew at her head a bright yellow light met directly with her chest.

Amelia staggered forward and dropped to the ground. Her wand fell forgotten to the side as her hands shot up to grab her throat.

"Yes, Amelia, I expect it would be a tad bit uncomfortable for you right now."

The Dark Lord started to walk forward and while sweat was evident on Amelia's face, he hardly looked phased.

"I want you to know of the honor I have just bestowed on you. For you see," he knelt down in front of her and his crimson eyes reflected her horror at not being able to take a breath, "I rarely do these sorts of killings personally. Only when they are significant or necessary in ensuring my plans do I get involved. You would have been a threat to me you see, Amelia."

The Dark Lord chuckled.

"Well, not to me personally… obviously," he prodded her cheek with his wand.

"But to my cause… your work with the Ministry would have slowed things down."

The Dark Lord rose and his smiled darkened.

"And I've waited long enough."

With the barest of twists he disappeared on the spot.

Harry blinked away the pain of seeing her try and gasp for the fresh air that just would not come.

Knowing what he had to do since he felt like he had failed her, Harry walked forward and as the woman came closer and closer to dying, the more visible that Harry became to her.

Soon he was fully visible and in Amelia's haze her last thoughts were of the strong and beautifully powerful figure in front of her was that her brother had come to great her.

"I'm sorry, Amelia," Harry's quiet voice sounded in the locked room.

"Your time has come."

With a swish downward Amelia's soul was severed from her body and absorbed by the scythe.

At that moment Harry felt the sum of her life pass through his mind and he felt her soul move on to the Land of the Dead. Everything that Amelia Bones was and had ever been was lying motionless in front of him.

Harry stared at her lifeless body for another minute without saying anything and he was glad when Mikhail stepped up behind him and grabbed onto his shoulders and transported them back home.

* * *

Harry and Mikhail never spoke about her death after that night and instead spent the next two weeks committed to putting as much preparation into their plan as possible. After all, they had _a lot_ of considerations in rebalancing order to the world after the shenanigans of Dumbledore and Voldemort, and Harry wanted to try and prevent as many deaths as he could.

So each morning the older Angel would shadow travel over to Harry's bedroom and the two would stretch out on the floor with their ledgers open in front of them. From there they would spend the next few hours gathering as much information about the potential players and any expected hiccups as possible regarding their upcoming assignment before breaking for lunch.

Of course, now that Harry was finally getting a feel for shadow traveling, they tended to go out for lunch.

Some days they would make the short journey into London to eat at a little café and other times they would go to the opposite side of the world and join the locals for a late-night hot pot. In a few short weeks Harry got to see a lot more of the world than he ever thought he would.

Regardless of where they dined they always returned to Privet Drive in the afternoon. The next few hours would then be spent slowly assembling a reasonable action plan to deal with both Tom Riddle's immortality and Dumbledore's inability to deal with something because of his fear of power. Now, Mikhail had stressed from the beginning that while they could plan everything in meticulous detail according to the timeline of the next two years that Harry saw in Death's office, it was very likely – almost guaranteed – that everything about what Harry knew the future to be would change.

For one thing, the two Angels had their sights firmly set on closing out this project in one year, not two, and, secondly, Mikhail was intimately familiar with the effects of inserting oneself into the timeline to prevent a horrendous outcome. Just the smallest of alterations to any series of interconnected events was enough to cause a domino effect that could quite literally turn the outcome on its head.

How could events remain the same if one directly attempted to prevent them from happening?

Therefore, they needed to have a general outline listing all of the reasonable possibilities of what _might_ result given what they knew about what did happen from a single future.

It wasn't perfect but it was far better than going into something blind, especially when most people could be directed to specific outcomes with careful manipulation.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore and Voldemort were not like most people, and so extra consideration needed to be given in anticipating their responses and actions to what Harry and Mikhail had planned.

Gathering all of the Horcruxes – aside from Nagini since that would alert Tom to what was going on and the ring, because Harry couldn't be bothered to save Dumbledore – had been the simple part. Revealing what they were, at the right time, and to the right people in order to be destroyed since they couldn't directly do it themselves on account of Death's rules would be the difficult part. Oh, and they couldn't let other people know what they were up to, either.

However, gathering Slytherin's Locket did at least present Harry with the chance to endear Kreacher to him earlier this time around. Of course, since he knew that Dumbledore would be by in a few week's time to settle his questions surrounding Sirius' will, Harry made sure the elf was totally loyal to him and gave Kreacher a very specific set of instructions on how he should behave. Thus, there would no suspicion when Dumbledore tested his theory on the inheritance of Sirius' will.

Plus, it came with the added benefit of giving them a new and immediate base of operations since Sirius's death, and the subsequent and immediate transfer of the property to Harry, had dissolved the Fidelius Charm that Dumbledore had previously cast.

They wasted no time in making Mikhail the new Secret Keeper, and so they now had a much larger place to work without fear of being disturbed by anyone. Nor would Dumbledore be able to stick his abnormally large and crooked nose into their business, and Harry was looking very forward to the moment when the man found out.

The new space and the ability to devote the entirety of the sprawling and legendary Black Library to permanently become command central also allowed them to be able to focus on some of the other people on Harry's list. Not unexpectedly, the two intelligent and devious Angels were able to incorporate those little sidebar quests into the bigger picture seamlessly.

Or about as well as could be planned ahead of time.

Speaking of which, around two weeks into their preparations, they finally had need for outside help to formally begin laying down some of the groundwork. Since Harry had little use for his sizeable Potter and Black fortunes on account of his ability to be reimbursed for expenses while on the job – not to mention the generous salary and benefits of his new employment – Harry retained one of the best and most exclusive solicitors in all of Britain. She was absolutely fabulous and not only handled Sirius' will but she also drafted several documents that would be deployed _strategically_ in the future to suit their needs.

To Harry, this whole process was invigorating as to how much more capable his mind was becoming without having to contend with Tom's Horcrux in his scar. A small part of him desperately wished that he had been able to access his full potential years ago since he was under a serious time crunch before he had to return to Hogwarts, but truth-be-told he was just happy to have it now.

Things that had once eluded him, things that he felt he should have known were now much easier for him to immediately see and understand. Well, some things. He was still just as clueless as ever when it came to recognizing how close that Mikhail and him were becoming as the days ticked by.

Nothing had happened between them yet but it wasn't out-of-the-ordinary for the pair to have their legs unknowingly brush up against one another while they were lying side-by-side on the floor and comparing notes.

Harry's apparent obliviousness, considering his other _sizeable_ talents, was something that Mikhail was well aware of since it was slowly beginning to drive him mad.

In reality, Mikhail was a little relieved for some time alone when Harry departed early one morning near the end of July from Number 12 Grimmauld Place to head for the Ministry of Magic. Their letter, rather Harry's urgent request for a meeting with the new Minister had come back positive.

For Harry, his journey to the Ministry was short. One minute he focused on becoming one with the shadows in the large fireplace next to the Black family tree, being absorbed into its very darkness, and the next he had reemerged in a dark spot on a dingy street in London full of graffiti. To his right there were several rundown offices and to his left was a pub that evidently served most of its clientele at breakfast.

In between the two was a shabby, red telephone box. Harry blinked away the memories from a few weeks ago and entered the booth and dialed six-two-four-four-two.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, visitor," a familiar voice welcomed Harry.

"State your name and business with the Ministry."

Harry had his answer ready.

"Harry James Potter; I'm here to meet with the Rufus Scrimgeour."

Instantly a silver badge materialized out of nowhere and fell into Harry's lap.

 ** _Harry James Potter_**

 ** _9:30 Meeting with Minister for Magic_**

"Please take your visitor's pass and display it prominently on your person as you head to the atrium to register your wand. Enjoy your visit!"

Her cheery voice ended and the bottom of the booth began to descend as he started to enter the Ministry's Atrium.

Harry got out of the lift as it deposited him on the all-too-familiar eighth level of the Ministry, and he ignored the gilded fireplaces that the regular Ministry employees used and made a beeline for the visitor's desk.

Harry had barely passed by the Fountain of Magical Brethren when the lone security guard recognized him at once.

"H-harry P-p-po-potter?" the man stuttered.

His eyes didn't really know where to focus on and Harry couldn't blame him. He didn't know if the man was surprised with his immaculate appearance – he was sure that Kathy would have approved of his sharp dress robes – or if his confident smirk reminded the man that he had been proven right about the Dark Lord's return.

Either way Harry really didn't care and because he had other things on his mind he handed over his holly wand and submitted to the registration process without saying a word.

"I trust you know how to get to level one?" the man asked after glancing at Harry's badge and noticing whom Harry was meeting with.

"Indeed."

With a polite nod Harry retrieved his wand and began to walk into the smaller hallway that housed a series of gated lifts.

Harry walked over and got into one of the empty lifts and closed the gilded gate. As the elevator detached from this floor and began its descent, Harry closed his eyes with the temporary privacy and mentally reminded himself.

'You can do this, Harry. Just do what you and Mikhail practiced. Be mindful of how you carry yourself. You're not the same person anymore; you are an Angel now and success early can set the tone for later.'

Harry ended his internal pep talk with one of Mikhail's favorite sayings. It wasn't that he felt unprepared for the conversation and manipulation that was about to take place, because he was looking forward to both immensely and had come to appreciate just how natural he felt in his new role.

However, this would also be the first opportunity where future lives could be saved. A lot of future lives, in fact, if he did things right. Therefore, there was rather a lot of pressure on how the next thirty minutes went.

As the gate retracted, Harry stepped out into the more formal-looking and smaller reception area that housed the offices of the Minister and other senior Ministry of Magic employees.

Imagining that he was leaving his doubts behind Harry focused instead on some of that newfound confidence and attitude that had come to him so naturally in his recent dealing with the Dursleys.

Soon he approached the familiar-looking and downturned face of Percy Weasley. The Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic had his chest puffed out and acted like he was working on the most important thing in the world.

Harry was determined to have fun with this.

He reached Percy's desk and extended his hand.

"I'm here for a meeting with the Minister for Magic."

Percy didn't look up when he responded to Harry in a bored tone.

"The new Minister is extremely busy and available only by appointment."

Harry left his hand extended and tried again.

"Apologies for not being more clear: my name is Harry Potter and I'm here for my nine-thirty appointment with Minister Scrimgeour. Please let him know I've arrived; he will be _very_ disappointed if I'm kept waiting."

The name Harry Potter caused Percy's neck to snap upwards, and Harry allowed his lips to curl upwards at the uncharacteristic part in Weasley's mouth.

It became difficult to keep his smirk from growing as Percy proceeded to then look Harry up and down, his eyes searching for any trace of the old Harry that he remembered.

"Mister Potter… I've been expecting you," came his unsteady reply.

"Minister Scrimgeour will be ready in a few moments. Why don't you have a seat over here," he indicated with an shaky hand movement.

Harry enjoyed seeing Percy out of his element. Even though he knew Percy had eventually come around and rejoined his family, that didn't mean that Harry was going to forget Percy's role during the previous year.

Nor was he going to have a seat.

"I'm very _appreciative_ that his no-doubt busy schedule since the delayed confirmation of Voldemort's return could make room to see me."

Harry smiled pointedly but his green eyes couldn't help but radiate just how good a part of him felt with this conversation.

"I must say it's nice to see how much difference a few short months can make. I'm quite fond of no longer seeing my name dragged through the mud in the _Daily Prophet,_ too."

Weasley swallowed hard and was really beginning to look uncomfortable.

"Yes, well… those were different times."

Percy's eyes then flicked downward and he had trouble meeting Harry's face.

However, no matter the feelings of vindication with this encounter, Percy's name was barely at the top of his list and he had another, more important meeting to focus on.

"I-I'm sorry," the young man managed to surprise Harry by saying, his eyes still looking down at the floor.

Just then something began to glow on Percy's desk and his eyes shot upwards to meet Harry's.

"The Minister will see you now."

Harry stood still looking at Percy for a minute, the green in his eyes was swirling as he thought through whether or not he wanted to acknowledge the apology.

In the end, he decided to be the better person.

"Thank you, Percy, it was good to see you. You're not a bad person, you know. Last year was difficult for everyone… and for different reasons… and chances are it will get worse before it gets better. And the only thing we can do is decide on what sort of person we want to be when the dark time comes."

Harry didn't know if he was supposed to say things like that but Percy _had_ come back to his family when it mattered. Plus, that didn't mean that Umbridge and former Minister Cornelius Fudge were going to be forgotten about.

Not in the least! He had plans for them. Big, evil plans.

At any rate, concerns over Weasley's internal battle with his pride and ambition were soon gone from his mind when he walked around the desk and made for the Minister's door.

Harry turned the showy handle and stepped into the office, noting that while the décor screamed wealth and privilege it could not compare to the timeless and eloquent simplicity of Death's mahogany styling.

At once he caught sight of Rufus, whose stare was fixated on something on the mantle of the ornately carved fireplace that was speckled with silver on the other side of the room.

Harry did his best to not focus too heavily on the faint hourglass hovering over the man's head, which told him that the man may or may not have a year left.

But Harry performed his very best when he was under pressure and so he shut the door behind him ready to do things differently this time.

The closing of the door alerted the Minister to his presence and Harry confidently began to walk over to him.

"Mister Potter," the deep and greasy voice of the Active Minister sounded.

"I must say it was a welcomed surprise to receive your letter and a pleasure to have the opportunity to finally meet you in person."

The man reached out to shake his hand and Harry noticed the man falter slightly as he took in Harry's full appearance.

Pleased with the reaction that signaled exactly the sort of response that he had been going for Harry accepted the gesture with a firm grip and shook twice before releasing.

"The pleasure is all mine, Minister. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you took my request seriously. It's a complete turnaround from my experiences with Cornelius Fudge and the _previous_ administration."

His sharp but truthful critique was only enhanced by how he looked and Rufus would be lying if said he wasn't even more curious about this boy and the conversation they would have.

"How about we head over here and discuss the reason for your visit today?" Rufus responded while gesturing to the middle of the room with his hands.

Harry allowed himself to be led over to the comfortable looking sofa that sat opposite from two armchairs.

"Please," the man indicated with his hand and Harry took a seat in the center of the couch.

The Acting Minister selected the left chair.

"Tea?" he offered, and then upon seeing Harry nod began to pour two cups full of steaming Black Tea.

"Thank you," Harry accepted his cup by the handle and balanced it on its corresponding plate.

"So, Mister Potter, what can I do for you today? I must say I was surprised to receive your letter but if I am being honest I had been planning on reaching out to you in the near future."

"Oh?" Harry played along, knowing full well that the man desired to use the fame of the Boy Who Lived to assure the public that the Ministry was doing something about the war.

"Of course, Harry. May I call you Harry?"

The man continued before Harry could even respond.

"But we can get into that later, Harry. Now, what urgent matters did you want to discuss that brought you in today?"

Harry and Mikhail had briefly discussed the best way for Harry to handle Scrimgeour but it had soon become quite obvious as to the best path forward.

"Actually, Sir, I'm very curious to hear that you were interested in reaching out to me. My concerns seem minor compared to what someone such as yourself could want from me. Please, I insist that you go first."

A triumphant gleam quickly passed through Scrimgeour's eyes.

"You are too kind, Harry."

The Minister relaxed more into his chair.

"As I've said I've been wanting to meet you for a long time. Personally I didn't think that the previous administration – as you've said – handled last year all that well either. Let me assure you that things will be different going forward."

Harry nodded cautiously.

"As such, it would be remiss of me or anyone in the role of leading the Ministry not to consider the Boy Who Lived right now, especially given the unfortunate return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry said nothing, waiting patiently with a neutral expression on his face.

"The rumors that are beginning to fly around!" said Scrimgeour.

"Well, of course," the man then continued in a patient and calculated way.

"However, we both know how some of these stories can become distorted… and how easily public opinion can be swayed."

The man leaned forward in his seat, setting his teacup on the table in front of him and then resting his tented hands on his knees.

"Take for instance these whispers of a prophecy surrounding you because of what happened at the Ministry a few weeks ago… of you being the 'the Chosen One'…"

Harry shifted in his chair, wanting to appear like he was slightly uncomfortable but understanding about the current topic – and not like he was just waiting for the man to finish the spiel that Harry knew was the man's underlying interest in him.

"I would assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?"

Harry pretended like he was deliberating for a few moments before getting on with it.

"Yeah, we've discussed it."

"Have you, have you…" Scrimgeour's eyes smiled.

"And what has Dumbledore told you?" Scrimgeour asked, leaning forward slightly because he was unable to contain his hunger for this information.

Amateur.

Still, Harry delayed his response just enough to give the man something.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I think that should stay between us."

Harry's tone was pleasant and Scrimgeour matched that with his response.

"Oh, of course, if it's a question of confidences, I wouldn't want you to divulge … no, no … and in any case, does it really matter whether you are 'the Chosen One' or not?"

"I don't really know what you mean, Sir."

"Well, of course, to _you_ it will matter enormously," said Scrimgeour with a laugh. "But to the Wizarding community at large… it's all perception, isn't it? It's what people believe that is important."

Harry knew that it didn't really matter what he said at this point; Scrimgeour was going to finally get there with or without him.

"People believe or will believe that you _are_ 'the Chosen One,' you see. In fact, they think you are quite the hero – which, of course, you are, Harry, chosen or not! How many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now?"

The man was going to keep going but Harry interrupted him.

"Four, Sir, after the deaths of my parents."

Scrmigeour's grin faltered slightly and his eyes narrowed, paying more attention to the Potter scion.

"The point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Harry. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be _destined_ to destroy He-Who-Might-Not-Be-Named – well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realize this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry and give everyone a boost."

Scrimgeour smiled widely at the boy before hitting what he thought to be final hook to get Harry into his clutches.

"It would seem to me that you are aware of how affected by this situation you are. You've already commented on how the previous administration failed in this regard and I am merely hoping to repair and improve your relationship with the Ministry – for the better of the entire Wizarding community."

Harry made it seem like he was thinking about what the man had said and his eyes moved slowly around the room.

"I don't exactly understand what you want," said Harry slowly.

"Stand along the Ministry, Sir? I'm still a student at Hogwarts; how could I help?"

"Oh, well, nothing at all onerous, I can assure you."

Harry thought he saw the man licking his lips, like the Minister had succeeded in convincing him. When in reality, Harry was just letting the man walk himself into a corner that he wouldn't be able to maneuver out of.

"For instance, if you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time that would give the right impression. Add in a few things mentioned in the Daily Prophet _here and there_ and you'll be able to provide the public a sense of comfort that they didn't have during the last war."

The Minister was now leaning so far forward in his seat that he could hardly be counted as sitting.

"Of course, Harry, with all of these visits to the Ministry, I'm sure that would provide you with the chance to meet Gawain Robards. She will be my successor as Head of the Auror Office, and Dolores Umbridge has told me that you have a very strong desire in becoming an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily…"

Harry smiled pleasantly.

"So basically," Harry put forth, "you'd like to give the impression that I'm working for the Ministry. To, as you put it, give everyone a lift because 'the Chosen One' is involved. I would be giving people hope, correct? By giving the impression that I support what the Ministry is doing?"

"Precisely, my boy! It's a win for everyone. We need you."

There it was; that was what Harry had been waiting for. The Minister looked very pleased with himself.

Harry, meanwhile, shed himself of any naivety and relaxed into his chair.

"Well then, for _that_ to happen I'm afraid I'm going to need to know exactly what the Ministry can do for me. What are the Ministry's plans for the war? To be honest I have very deep concerns about how the Ministry has handled things the past few years. Considering the fiasco that was _Dolores Umbridge_ ," Harry's nose wrinkled, "being at Hogwarts last year, not to mention the way that the Ministry ignored the evidence of Voldemort's," Rufus' eyes widened comically, "return and brutalized me in the press, I need to know exactly what I'll be lending my support to."

Harry paused to take a sip of tea but his green eyes never left Rufus' face, who was looking more offended by the second.

"Mister Potter," he began with more reserved features now taking over his once predatory face, "I can't speak about the previous administration but I can assure you that we are taking the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named very seriously."

"I am very glad to hear that, Sir," Harry said honestly.

"But still, I would be very interested in knowing just what the Ministry is or has been doing to prepare for what Voldemort's return means."

"What do you think it means, then?" the Minister replied with the rising hint of derision in his voice.

"War," Harry said obviously.

"Voldemort will not stop until he controls all of Wizarding Britain, and then the world no doubt. He was beaten once and he can be beaten again but for that to happen – without the miraculous intervention of another one-year old child – then steps need to be taken now."

Rufus did not like where this conversation was going; he was feeling threatened, and from a child no less. His posture was rapidly becoming closed off to Harry.

"And, what, you think you know how to prepare for war? You think you would do a better job than adult witches and wizards? Have you even given a thought as to how the public needs to be dealt with to prevent mass hysteria-"

"I think I know better than most how to deal with Voldemort, _Sir_ , all things considered."

The man was now outright dismissive and Harry had him right where he wanted him. The Angel within Harry was having fun now and his powerful eyes pierced Rufus as he continued.

"Or do you forget that my life has been intimately tied to the Dark Lord's since I was a year old. Not only did he murder my parents," Harry said as he sat his teacup down and sat up straighter, "but I then faced him not once, not twice, not even three more times. You see, I've had the most unfortunate pleasure of fighting for my life against him on four separate occasions. How many times have you met Voldemort, Sir?"

Harry took an innocent sip of tea.

For a moment, some of Rufus' hot air had been deflated since he couldn't answer Harry's question, and so Harry took the opportunity to drive his point home.

"I haven't exactly had a normal childhood, either. Or do you forget that I was selected for the Triwizard Tournament when I was fourteen… or can defend myself against a Dementor … did you ever hear about how I slayed a Basilisk … should I continue?"

Harry paused to raise a single eyebrow knowing that he had made solid points. Scrimgeour was agitated but he had _heard_ what the boy had said.

"I'm not saying that I know how to run a government or how to prevent mass panic, but I do know something about how this man works and what needs to be done to stop him…" Harry began in a softer, more even-toned voice.

"So again, I ask what is the Ministry going to do? I think I have a right to know what the adults are going to do to keep this world, to keep me safe. Because if you aren't going to take this seriously and fight it with everything that you have then I would rather invest my time towards something worthwhile."

Harry sat back in his chair and took another sip from his cup, giving the Minister an opportunity to fully digest his words. He was somewhat confident now that he had made the right impression and that things would move in the direction that he wanted him to.

The Minister leaned back in his chair for a moment and seemed to share a pensive look with the ceiling. He therefore missed the predatory smile on Harry's face.

The Minister took a deep breath and then met Harry's expectant expression.

"I take it that you have thoughts on what we should be doing then?"

"While I disagree with how much the Ministry impacted Hogwarts last year I do think there is a continued role for them within the school. For one thing all of the Educational Degrees are still technically in effect and there _is_ a strong need for competent and consistent education in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I would suggest that the Ministry supplies an Auror to fill the unoccupied teaching post."

"That would seem possible if handled correctly," Rufus acknowledged.

"Anything else?"

This is where Harry knew that he would face the most resistance.

"The next thing I would do is clean up within the Ministry. I'm not talking about giving out information about telling the public to have private questions and answers in place to protect against Polyjuice doppelgangers since I know that and other safety measures have already begun."

The Minister's eyes widened minutely since those measures were earmarked to be published the next week.

Harry wasn't going to explain it either and kept going.

"What I'm more concerned with is knowing for a fact that Voldemort has several of his Death Eaters here and therefore imagine that a simple ward banning anyone with a Dark Mark would be a necessary start."

As expected, Rufus didn't like that idea.

"There is simply no way that could happen – despite the truth of it. The Wizenagamot meets next week and they would immediately call for a Vote of No Confidence in me to choose someone else to rescind that measure should I make it now. I am well aware just how difficult these times are and people would see that measure as too unforgiving since many people were cleared as being under the Dark Lord's thrall during the first war. They would claim it would unfairly subject them to a punishment that they had been previously been cleared of."

Harry wanted to let the man get his fear and apprehension out of his system before he responded.

"No, they best we can do is to give the impression that we are making a strong stand but try and change things internally. Quietly. Department to department."

"I disagree, sir."

With that Harry pulled out several documents from his briefcase and placed them on the table. This was his trump card.

"These copies are for your education. They cannot be duplicated or copied and will disappear in one hour. The originals have already been filed and sealed by my Solicitor to be made public for a future date of my choosing. I am sharing these with you to convince you of the steps that I am prepared to take, the steps that I am _going_ to take. These _will_ be released but I think the exact timing of these could greatly help your ability to remain Minister and keep all those with a Dark Mark out of the Ministry."

"What do you mean, how will these help? They are lawsuits, Mister Potter! Very damaging lawsuits."

Harry internally sighed that he even needed to explain; he had expected more out of the Minister.

"Think about it, Minister. If the Ministry considers both of my requests and implements them, and then news of these lawsuits hit, it will only further separate the actions of the previous administration from the new one. You are the one that is so concerned with appearing to be doing the right thing, well, here is your chance to both have your cake and eat it too. _You_ were the one that wanted to get me involved with public perception, after all!"

"Be that as it may, that is an awfully big _if_ to consider."

"Sir," Harry stared pointedly, "I may look young and I may be young, but you can be assured that not doing anything is unacceptable. I've been changed these past few years and refuse to ever repeat the year that I just had. I'm going to fight it with everything I have and you are either with me or against me."

Harry then pulled out one final document and practically threw it at Scrimgeour.

"I'm willing to do everything in my power to prevent that man from winning. It has cost me family, friends, and my childhood. You know this man, well, he was my Godfather, and he died a few weeks ago. He saved my life the night Voldemort was discovered in the Ministry's Atrium no less. Jumped in front of the Killing Curse for me and went through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry's eyes were shinning now and just a little bit of Death's power was showing.

"No one believed me when I said that he was innocent, that he was not the one to betray my parents or murder all those people. It had been Peter Pettigrew all along, an unregistered Animagus. I didn't know about my full options then but would be more than happy to provide my memories from that night to clear his name."

Harry continued to burn a hole in the Minister with his verdant eyes.

"Of course… how will that look for the Ministry to require Harry Potter, the boy who endured ridicule and slander for over a year when it turned out he had in fact been telling the truth about Voldemort's return all along, to have to prove the innocence of a man who was never even given a trial in the first place?"

The Minister was lost for words and Harry hit the nail in the coffin.

"And I promise you that should I have to go down that road that you will sorely regret not taking my advice now!"

"You're threatening me," Rufus' eyes suddenly lit up as panic raced through his body.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, Minister, I'm simply telling you what I am going to do and how it could help or not help you. What happens should you choose to ignore my advice is not my problem. I am simply trying to help as many people as I can because I am sick of living with the threat of Voldemort over my head. It is time that people did something instead of sitting back and hoping that someone else deals with it. I am happy to do my part and be seen as supporting the Ministry, your Ministry, and then some! But everyone will lose if we don't work together; I'm sure of it."

Sure, there was a small risk with what Harry had done but he didn't think he had that much of a choice. If the man chose to do what Harry wanted then they would come out ahead, and if he didn't well then at least they would not be worse off. At the very least, the lawsuits that Mikhail and Harry had come up with his solicitor were designed to make the Ministry have a bigger role in preparing for the war than what had happened in the future he saw – sooner or later he would get his point across.

The next time Harry spoke, his voice was as clear as it had ever been.

"No one ever said that fighting a war was fun or easy but I would rather not have to go through it alone, and there is no reason why anyone should. We are all in this together and I'm hoping that you see that sooner rather than later."

Rufus looked like he was still weighing a few things in his mind. However, Harry was almost positive that he had said what he had needed to in order to convince the man. Still, he didn't think it would hurt to impart just a little more than he was perhaps supposed to in order to get the Minister on board with this.

"I know this is not an easy situation for us to be in and I would wager that both of us much prefer not to have to do this. But knowing what I know about the man I think this is the best path forward and that our best chance to beat him is strength in numbers. What would you do if you were in his position?"

To his credit, Scrimgeour actually looked thoughtful.

"I recently have been doing that a lot, Sir, and was one of the reasons I reached out to you. A more disciplined and thorough Department of Magical Law Enforcement makes it harder for him – why do you think Amelia was killed?"

But Harry didn't want to scare the man off with that comment so he hurried on.

"And you can put as much of the focus on the Ministry's change on me – the Dark Lord is smart enough to know all of this will be because of me or Dumbledore and he is already gunning for us anyways. Again, I'm willing to do my part because I know that a stronger Ministry response would make it nearly impossible for him to win. Which is why I wrote to you and why I'm here today. I believe we can do this but I need your help and I need it now."

For a moment Harry was given hope when he saw the man's hourglass begin to spin with uncertainty – but then they reverted back to normal and indicated more or less a year to live.

Harry closed his eyes at the thought that he must have failed and brought his hands up to run through his hair.

"All right, Mister Potter," the Minister said with a large sigh and to Harry's relief, "if it means having your support from the beginning then I think we just might be able to do this. Did you have a timeline in mind?"

Harry spent the next twenty minutes detailing what his plans were and, just maybe he thought to himself, that it would be enough to change the future.

* * *

 **I've always liked Amelia and was oddly affected by her death in canon. Just wanted to explore it a little, and felt it moved the plot along nicely.**


End file.
